


In Shades

by themunchking



Category: NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: A surprising amount of fluff and being in love, Alternate Universe - Monster Hunters, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Angst, But everything is consensual, But in a sexy way, Degradation, Family Dynamics, Horror Elements, I never write horror and it shows, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mild Gore, Sexual Content, Ten is a monster fucker pass it on, ambiguous ending, light Knife Play, minor blood play, questionable power dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-11-26 07:01:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20926073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themunchking/pseuds/themunchking
Summary: “Who’s the tamed bitch, really?” The man spits before they make it out the door. Ten stops in his tracks and tries his best to burn a hole into the wall with his gaze. Five years ago, two years ago, three hundred and twenty days ago—no way Ten would have let that slide. A lot’s changed in three hundred and twenty days, though.  “The Hags won’t kill you. That fucking monster will.”And Ten thinks to himself—Don’t you think I know that?





	In Shades

**Author's Note:**

> Whoever prompted this was probably looking for some good smut, but somehow this turned into 20k (!!) of plot _and_ smut. I hope you enjoy!

_ Never tame your demons— _

_ Always keep them on a leash. _

  


What goes bump in the night? 

The rhythmic pounding of a headboard against the wall, or the thing scratching at your door to get in?

-

**Day 320**

Ten knows that when the door to the bar swings open, all eyes turn to him. Some guns, too. It’s been some time since he’s been here, to this particular place. He left on good terms, but it’s what happened in the interim that’s the trouble. 

Everyone knows. 

Behind him, Yukhei lurks. A dark, imposing presence. Ten can’t see him, but he still feels the way he bristles as the subject of so many hostile looks. Yukhei isn’t about to show his discomfort on his face, but he does reach forward to press his fingers over the sharp jut of Ten’s hip bones, exposed from where his jeans sit low. Like they’re one, inseparable unit. 

Maybe, if this were a normal bar, people would be looking at the chain that runs from Yukhei’s neck to where Ten holds it loosely in his palm. Here, though, it’s known to be more complicated than a public showing of BDSM. 

“What?” Ten demands to the room at large. Quirks an eyebrow, dares anyone to challenge him. No one does, at least for the moment. 

With Yukhei following right at his heels Ten strides over to the booth in the corner. It’s a coveted seat, occupied by three gruff-looking men with beards tied with metal beads scratched with symbols and dark, intricate tattoos. The two groups size each other up—Ten with his own black ink circling his collarbones and shoulders, the glinting metal in his ears, and shadow that radiates trouble. Even before, Ten would stand a good chance in this stand-off. Now he’s unbeatable. 

When the men vacate the table, Ten waits for Yukhei to slide in on one side before mirroring him on the other. The looks aren’t so blatant, but having everyone taking glances out of the corner of their eye is possibly worse. Ten feels their judgment hot on his skin. No one has their hand in their pants because they’re grabbing their dicks, that’s for sure. 

Underneath the table, Ten’s foot slides against the back of Yukhei’s ankle, right above the fragile tendon in his heel. _ Relax _, Ten wants to say, but he can’t do so out loud. Fortunately, these days they don’t need to speak much for the point to get across. Yukhei does relax, fractionally. 

The bar is dark—darkly lit, with chocolate toned wood, and deep red leather upholstery. The clientele all dresses in the same way, too, in blacks and browns and forest greens. The second rule of being a Hunter is to not attract too much attention to yourself. 

What’s the first rule? Never leave something that should be dead alive. 

There were times on the journey that Ten second-guessed whether or not coming here would be a good idea. He hasn’t had many of those, lately. 

This part of Romania sits approximately fifty miles from the Moldova border, on the edge of a large, dense, and deep forest that runs north through Ukraine and even beyond. It’s the kind of forest that existed before Europe or borders and is wild and untamed because of it. 

The locals say that dark things, _ evil _ things, lurk in the forest. There are those who _ know _ they do. 

It’s why this bar exists at all, in this Romanian town that otherwise wouldn’t even be on the map. While predators may lurk in the forest, humans are good predators, too. 

They drink. Well, Ten drinks. If he’s being honest with himself, he prefers fruity cocktails that are sickeningly sweet on the tongue over heavy draft beers, but after spending 18 of his 28 years around Hunters, it’s become as much of a habit as anything else he does. It’s not like he frequents Hunter bars for the company—it’s all in the information.

“You have balls, that’s for sure. I don’t know if I expected anything else, though.” The man the voice belongs to is a familiar figure in Ten’s life, at least in this part of the world. The man goes by Moon and like many Hunters, it’s a nickname earned from years of service. Moon’s origin is obvious enough—it comes from the long, crescent-shaped scar that tracks the right side of his face from hairline to chin. A werewolf did it, fittingly. 

Ten gives him his best, toothy grin. So sharp it hurts. “Never do anything in halves,” he says. “Now show me the map.” 

Moon unrolls a worn map printed on glossy paper with pen and marker scrawled across the surface. The forest may be dense, but they’ve done a fair job at mapping at least the outer edges. It’s impossible to get a reliable map too deep in, though, when the trees are constantly playing tricks on you.

“The Hags were last seen here,” Moon points to the spot circled in red ink. “And are moving in deeper after flirting with the forest edge around some villages for three months. One of them is injured, but the other Hunters stopped pursuit because they didn’t have the proper gear.” 

“Smart move,” Ten says. The irony of _ him _ saying that is not lost on him. 

There’s a question in the air, and that’s how far are Ten and Yukhei willing to go in themselves. It’s always a reasonable question, because too many Hunters have been lost pursuing something when they should have let it lie. Happens all the time. Ten should know. 

But Ten’s gaze slides over to Yukhei, and he _ looks _ at him in a way no one else will. Even Moon avoids looking at him. Ten sees how his eyes are orbs of inky blackness, how his teeth chew at his bottom lip, and how his grip is white against the table. Yukhei is hungry. The hunt is on. 

“We’ll finish the job,” Ten shrugs. He’s so adept at playing faux-casual that the performance is more natural than showing how he really feels. He swings the chain attached to Yukehi around in a circle casually. With everyone listening in, the small _ clink _ it makes is absolutely deafening. Maybe it’s an ill-advised move, but good boys need to be reminded of their place. 

Ok—very ill-advised. Ten’s blatant flaunting of the situation appears to be the breaking point for some. The grumbles begin as background noise, before rising and crescendoing in the form of a toppled-over chair. 

“Never thought I’d see the day when the mighty _ Ten _ brings a fucking rabid dog in here,” one of the men snaps. Ten knows his face, but not his name. He’s forgotten it, honestly. 

“Better behaved than your wife,” Ten replies casually. It’s a risk—he’s only 80% sure this particular man has a wife at all. But from the deepening furrow, it looks like Ten’s correct. “Oh, she didn’t tell you? The last time I was here I had her swallowing my cock.” 

Predictable macho posturing follows. Fighting in Hunter bars is officially against policy, but that doesn’t mean it never happens. Ten’s already feeling on-edge, so maybe a fight would do him good. 

But no—he’s got Yukhei to worry about. 

Yukhei, who’s gone from merely glowering to actually _ growling _, which Ten knows from experience will soon escalate to full on snarling and snapping. Ten tugs sharply on the chain and Yukhei falls silent, along with the rest of the bar. Moon’s eyes flit back and forth between, and although he’s doing a good job of hiding it, his hand hovers close to the silver dagger Ten knows he keeps tucked against the small of his back. Ten doesn’t know what side he’ll take, if it comes down to it. 

These are things he used to know. His loyalties were all lined up—there were people he could trust his life with, people he could trust with a secret but not in a fight, and people Ten only pretended to trust. His reputation followed him everywhere. It still does, just for very different reasons. 

Hunters are tough—they have to be. But Hunters also have to be smart, and part of their situational intelligence is knowing when to back down from a fight and hightail it to safe territory. So Ten downs the rest of his beer one long chug, throws a handful of leu onto the table, and stands. His pride will be hurt, but sometimes it’s better to escape with a bruised ego rather than bruises elsewhere. 

“Thank you for the job, Moon. It’s nice to know I still have bigger balls than any Hunter east of Munich. If we’re not back with some Hags heads in a week, you’ll all be free to celebrate our deaths.” 

Ten forces his grip on Yukhei’s chain to remain easy and relaxed, and he holds his chin up as he led them to the exit. He’s running, sure, but he’ll do it with goddamn dignity. Yukhei follows behind him, hackles raised. 

“Who’s the tamed bitch, really?” The man spits before they make it out the door. Ten stops in his tracks and tries his best to burn a hole into the wall with his gaze. Five years ago, two years ago, three hundred and twenty days ago—no way Ten would have let that slide. A lot’s changed in three hundred and twenty days, though. “The Hags won’t kill you. That fucking _ monster _ will.”

And Ten thinks to himself—

_ Don’t you think I know that? _

-

**Day -1832**

Ten wiggles his toes. It’s nice to be someplace warm again where he can wear his sandals, which he’s always found more comfortable than the heavy combat boots that are practically part of the Hunter uniform. He sips his Thai tea—the good, authentic stuff—and watches the activity on the street. He’s chosen a cafe in a quiet part of Chiang Mai, outside of the tourist-crowded Old City. Here, palm fronds litter the cracked pavement, but the food is cheap and all the signs are in Thai only. It’s a bit inaccessible, a bit intimidating, which is why Ten’s chosen it. 

A tuk tuk with a classic red roof, dented suspiciously, rumbles to a stop in front of the cafe’s deck, a weather-worn thing covered by an electric green tarp. Out climb two men—Sicheng, who Ten is already well acquainted with, and another, with whom he is not. 

The stranger is tall, baby faced, and has wide, pretty eyes. Everything about him screams _ innocence _, and Ten would dismiss him and this whole proposal if not for that he comes with Sicheng’s recommendation. And Ten’s read some of Wong Yukhei’s research—his notes on Later Tang-era cursed artifacts are well done. Even Ten can admit that. 

Ten greets Sicheng with a warm smile, because he is keenly aware of how the enchanter prefers not to be touched. He’s so thin and pale, like at any moment a stiff breeze could take him out. Yukhei, on the other hand, wraps Ten into a hug, so unexpected it manages to catch even _ him _ off-guard. Over Yukhei’s shoulder, Sicheng shrugs and struggles to hide his giggles behind his palm. They sit and Ten orders them drinks in Thai, because while he’s well aware he can be a true cunt, that doesn’t mean he’s completely devoid of manners, either. 

“Happy to be back in Asia?” Sicheng asks politely. Ten knows he’s being careful with his Mandarin. After years of living with Kun, and more recently Hendery as well, Ten’s Chinese is more than passable, but he can’t be insulted when he understands Sicheng is well-meaning. 

“Of course,” Ten says. “Do you know how _ cold _ Europe is? Why Taemin loved it there, I don’t know.” 

“You live in Europe?” Yukhei butts in. Ten can’t help but compare him to an excitable puppy. It’s... endearing, strangely enough. But Ten still glances at Sicheng—_ he seriously knows _ nothing _ about me? _

Ten’s not full of himself, really. He considers himself the perfect amount of cocky for someone with his accomplishments. Sure he’s only been a true Hunter for three years, but he’s got enough badges of honor that surpass whole careers. _ He _ was the one who, after all, hiked into the Alps and slayed a sphinx for his Hunter’s badge at age 20. _ He _ was the one who massacred a coven of eight vampires, single-handedly, in Johannesburg after they were stupid enough to abduct him. So usually, people in their line of work are already familiar with him. 

“Yes,” Ten says, trying very hard not to be patronizing, “in Cologne with my Brothers, Kun and Hendery. We’ve been based there for three years, since Kun and I passed our Trials.” 

“I heard a rumor Kun is looking to take on an apprentice,” Sicheng says. Figures—Sicheng _ would _ know all about the rumors that aren’t actually rumors at all. By the time Ten returns to Germany, the kid from Dusseldorf will have already moved in. Ten thinks that Kun is trying to collect every East Asian Hunter in Germany. 

“Well, Hendery’s twenty this year. His Trial is in November.” 

Sicheng is familiar with Ten’s Family—he knows perfectly well that Hendery is Taemin’s last apprentice, and also knows that Kun’s obsessed with the Family line. When Taemin died, Kun and Ten taught Hendery together, but it’s an established fact there’s no way Ten will be taking on a true apprentice of his own. So that leaves Kun to do all the Family work. 

Ten—Ten’s not sure _ how _ he feels about it. Yangyang is fifteen—not too old to learn their ways, but not so young that he needs Kun to be his father. But there might be a correlation to his arrival in Cologne and Ten’s extended trip to Asia. Maybe. 

“Oh, your Brother and I are the same age! That’s nice!” Yukhei grins. This is another surprise—Ten had no idea Yukhei was so young. By the look on Sicheng’s face, he’s been waiting to see this moment play out. Ten does the math. 

“If you’re twenty, then you wrote the artifact guide at... seventeen?” 

Yukhei nods. Ten can see a sweet, rosy red blush appear across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. He rubs at the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, that’s right. I guess I technically wrote my first guide at fourteen.” 

“That’s—” _ Impressive. _“Interesting.” 

Sicheng tries to stifle a laugh behind his palm. Bastard. Ten is going to put a two year freeze on jobs from his as a punishment, just because he’s a petty bitch like that. 

The cafe girl brings them their drinks and Ten tips back in his chair, balancing perfectly on two legs, and sips his Thai tea through a straw. Nothing like the taste of home. He fixes Yukhei with what he knows to be his best intimidating eyebrow arch. 

Infuriatingly, Yukhei smiles right through it. 

Ten and Sicheng share a wordless conversation—Yukehi’s passed the silent test he didn’t even know he was taking. 

“So what’s the job?” Ten asks. Yukhei’s shown enough for Ten to be interested in the job, and that it might not be the complete waste of time Ten originally pegged it as.

“I’m hiring a Hunter to go with me into Tibet,” Yukhei says. “There are pangolins there. Magic ones, of course. In the caves.” 

“You want me to go all the way to Tibet with you to crawl around some caves for some magic lizards?” Ten asks flatly. He takes every nice thought about Yukhei back—what had Sicheng been thinking? Yukhei’s smile falls and he furrows his brow, looking thoroughly confused. 

“Pangolins aren’t lizards,” he says. “They’re mammals. It’s a common misconception.” 

“Whatever,” Ten dissmisses with a wave of his hand. “You know Hunters kill things, right? I’m not going to play your research assistant.” 

“Oh, I know! Pangolins aren’t even dangerous—as far as we’re aware! But the caves of Tibet are a largely unmapped magical region—I’m looking for magic pangolins, but there’s really no telling what we’ll find. I’ve heard from my contact in Lhasa that there’s been sightings of everything from Huli Jing, Cloud Cats, and maybe even a dragon. I need a bodyguard, not an assistant.”

Yukhei looks innocent, and is a little naive, and is probably too trusting of strangers, but he’s not stupid. He’s a proven researcher who knows going into unmapped territory would be suicide. Again, Ten is... impressed. The job might be good afterall. 

“So what do _ I _ get from this little endeavor?” 

“Pangolin scales are quite valuable, especially as an ingredient in elixirs,” Sicheng says quietly. Now Ten knows why Sicheng went out of his way to make this introduction. Sicheng’s not the type for favors. 

Yukhei leans forward and rests his elbow on the shaky table. “That’s good for us, but for you it will be more interesting than anything, won’t it?”

It's the adventure that sells Ten, more than anything. The scales he could hardly care about, but if what Yukhei says is true, depending on how lucky—or unlucky—they are, Ten could get some impressive kills under his belt. Maybe even a cave network named after him.

“How do you plan on getting in?” 

“I have my ways,” Yukhei says, eyes sparkling. 

In Ten’s experience, someone _ having their ways _ usually involves a black market contact specializing in passports. Looks like Ten’s Mandarin will be getting some more practice. 

“And the pay?” 

The pay is—Ten won’t play around. The pay is _ a lot _ , so much so that Yukhei, a humble researcher, having that much money for a job to search out _ pangolins _ in _ Tibet _is downright suspicious. It makes Ten wonder—how do Yukhei and Sicheng know each other in the first place? There’s someone backing the trip, someone that Ten doesn’t appear to get to know about. 

Whatever. Ten is a Hunter, not a supernatural cop. 

He’s known Sicheng for a long time, and though he wouldn’t say he trusts the enchanter (because a Hunter trusts no one fully but their Brothers), he’s never been led astray by him, either. So whoever is paying an arm and a leg to learn about pangolins, well, the name on the check is not of Ten’s concern. 

“Ok,” Ten says. 

“Ok?” Yukhei repeats stupidly. 

Ten gives himself a deep breath and tries to be patient. It would be a long trip if Ten starts getting annoyed now. “Yes. I’ll take the job. Now, what are the details?” 

Ten and Yukhei do the rest of the talking, to the point where Ten nearly forgets Sicheng is there at all. That’s probably how the enchanter likes it, anyways. Surprisingly, Yukhei has the whole trip already well planned out, and Ten just adds a suggestion here and there, including the brand of cigarettes he likes that can be bought from the duty free store in Chinese airports. Yukhei writes everything down in a beautiful, leather bound notebook with pages Sicheng has enchanted to protect from the elements. When Ten peeks over the top to get a look, he sees Yukhei’s looping scrawl written in a strange mix of English and Chinese, alongside diagrams of different plants with known magical side-effects. 

Against his will, Ten finds himself liking Yukhei more and more, to the point where he invites the pair out drinking after their meeting is wrapped up. Ten knows a place that puts on a good drag show. It’ll be nice to see what Yukhei’s like under some heat. 

Ten orders them drinks. A _ lot _of them. Like all Hunters, he can hold his liquor. 

Yukhei, as it turns out, can not. 

The place Ten brings them to is an underground establishment, which means they don’t have to worry about Chiang Mai’s unreasonable (in Ten’s opinion) last call hour. They water down the beer, but between Ten’s charm and Yukhei’s cash, they don’t have a problem keeping the buzz going. Well, Ten’s buzz. As they night goes on, Yukhei gets steadily redder and redder, rocketing up to drunk in a few drinks. Ten almost catches himself thinking it’s cute. 

Another result of Yukhei’s practically non-existent alcohol tolerance is that with the more he drinks, the clinger he becomes. It’s something Ten should have expected, considering Yukhei greeted him as a stranger with a full on hug. So Yukhei laughs into the crook of Sicheng’s neck and wraps one of his huge bear hands around Ten’s shoulder.

And so what if Ten lets his hand rest on Yukhei’s thigh? He’s been extremely deprived of cute boys as of late. It’s just some harmless flirting, really. 

Sicheng rolls his eyes at him from across the table. He knows Ten’s antics well. The entire time they’ve been out drinking Sicheng has sat in the corner, content to watch Ten flirt with a Yukhei that’s too drunk to really appreciate how smoking hot Ten is. No wonder he and Kun get along so well—they both love to watch Ten embarrass himself. 

From the way the warm orange lighting of the bar hits Yukhei’s face, Ten knows that he’d also look good illuminated by the flashing neon lights of the clubs Ten likes in Berlin, surrounded by graffiti and concrete. Yukhei’s cheek bones would look good anywhere, even in the moonlight. 

Whether or not he realizes it, Yukhei leans into Ten’s touch. “This trip will be great,” he tells Ten, slurring his words through a dizzy smile. “Thank you so much for coming. You’re the only person I want to go with ever.” 

“Thanks?” Ten doesn’t exactly know what Yukhei means by that, but he’s pretty sure it’s a compliment. All Hunters have fragile egos, and Ten is no exception. Underneath Ten’s hand, the firm muscles of Yukhei’s thigh jump. 

Yeah—Ten thinks this trip to Tibet will be very interesting indeed. 

-

**Day -1779**

Lhasa is breathtaking. One of the clear benefits of Ten’s line of work is the travel, because while he routinely risks life and limb hunting down nightmares, at the very least the places he gets to do so are often very beautiful. Though the city is surrounded by mountains, the sky seems to go on forever. 

Ten’s initial inclination was correct—Yukhei’s contact was indeed someone who provided them with fake PRC passports, though Ten bribes the border agents anyways, because more than forgery, money is the way to make sure suspicions are kept low. They don’t need any trouble, and they don’t need anyone finding Ten’s knife collection at the crossing. 

They stay in Lhasa for a few days, adjusting to the elevation change and prepping for the trek into the mountains and caves. Yukhei’s pack is filled with scientific equipment Ten’s never seen before, and vice versa. Ultimately, Ten finds his anxiety level unexpectedly low. It’s something about Yukhei, something comforting in the way he’s always finding ways to place one of his large, warm hands on Ten’s back with a toothy, reassuring grin. 

They share a two-bed room in a guesthouse in the city, the start of what will be an extended period of closeness. Not that Ten minds—he doesn’t mind at all, in fact. Ten notices how Yukhei is first and foremost obedient to his curiosity, which compels him to study the free expanse of Ten’s skin every time he changes clothes (Ten may or may not be changing more than usual). Ten may be playing with fire, but Yukhei is cute. That’s just a fact. 

Ten wonders how many of his scars Yukhei has managed to catalog. 

In the mountains Ten feels more like a Primary school teacher than a Hunter. Yukhei is beyond enthusiastic, taking interest in everything from the ordinary flora and fauna to the views, which are admittedly spectacular. It seems impossible that somewhere beyond the mountains are cities and flatlands, oceans and jungles. 

“It’s so beautiful man!” Yukhei bellows as they cross over a pass, rivers and valleys stretching out below them. 

It’s a bit like walking a dog—maybe Ten should have brought a leash. That thought alone is enough to keep Ten amused as they climb higher and higher through the rocky, perpetually snowy terrain. 

Camp is set at the base of the cave network Yukhei has pinpointed as being home to the mystical pangolins. For carrying weight purposes, they decided back in Lhasa to share one tent, which is set up in a matter of minutes. Afterwards, Ten goes through the process of creature-proofing the camp. Considering the amount of times Ten has done this, the ritual is comforting. 

Protections, in addition to bestiaries, are one of the things passed down from Hunter to Hunter, with each generation leaving its own marks. The base inscription from Jonghyun, Taemin custom herb recipe, Sicheng’s charms added by Ten and Kun. It takes him back to the kitchen in their house on the outskirts of Athens, the first home in Europe after Taemin picked him out of the Bangkok suburbs and made him part of the family. Made him _ him _. 

Ten was young then, young and scared, and the place he felt safest was huddled under the kitchen table with an ever-growing collection of the neighborhood’s stray cats. In those days Taemin spent ages working on his recipes, drying and smoking bushel after bushel of garlic and shifting sea salt until his hands were cracked and couldn’t take it anymore. As he worked, he’d grill skewers of lamb and pass down the pieces to Ten with chunks of hearty bread, a gesture of kindness and empathy that said more than words ever could. 

Sometimes Ten’s heart aches with memories of all the people who are gone. 

Ten tries to be patient and let Yukhei hover over his shoulder while he works, but that part of his personality has always been a short fuse. “Let me work,” he snaps, and immediately feels like he’s just kicked a puppy. Softer, he says, “I’m here to protect you, so let me do my job. If you want, I’ll explain it to your after.” 

With a pout, Yukhei goes and sits at the campfire and watches Ten from a distance. He doesn’t complain, likely because it allows him a better vantagepoint to stare at Ten’s ass (and Ten, for the record, has a great one, very much deserving to be looked at). 

Dinner consists of the last of the perishables. Considering it’s a short expedition, Ten has allowed for more luxuries on the food front than if they were on a much lengthier trek. Munching on his dried meat stick, Ten begins to explain, “I laid down a general protection barrier around the camp. Designed to protect against demons, creatures, and various other enchantments. It’s not the strongest thing in the world, but considering we don’t know what could be out there, it’s something.” 

The world out here is wild, raw. There’s no telling what secrets hide in the earth beneath their feet.

Yukhei’s way of listening is particularly intense—he goes for sustained eye contact, and Ten feels like his large, almond-shaped eyes are trying to bore into his soul and dissect every last bit of it. No matter what the subject is, he nods along like it’s the most interesting, most personally salient thing he’s ever heard. “You’re amazing,” Yukhei says, and seems to really mean it. 

That’s another thing about Yukhei: he’s so genuine, all the time. Frankly, it’s weird for Ten to interact with people who don’t have some kind of hidden agenda. Even Sicheng, Ten’s most trusted business partner outside of his Family, keeps more than his fair share hidden. But from the very start, Yukhei’s been open and honest with his motivations and his shortcomings. 

The world of Hunters is full of egos (Ten’s included). Overconfidence has led to more than one funeral. 

“I know,” Ten replies, and lets himself smile. The moment that passes between them is private, even from the night. 

They’re not alone, though. When they crawl inside the tent to sleep, Ten is woken by the unshakable feeling something is outside. His hand finds the handle of his pistol—loaded with customary silver rounds—under his pillow. It’s just habit, though, as none of his alarms have triggered. 

Beside him, Ten feels Yukhei stir. Their sleeping bags are close enough to touch, with Yukhei’s face just a few inches away. “It’s nothing,” Ten says quietly when Yukhei’s eyes open. The other man does strange things to the Hunter—Ten is normally not the type to shy away from the truth, but for some reason he wants to protect Yukhei, sooth away any cause for fear. 

“It’s not nothing,” Yukhei replies, however, because he _ is _ the genius researcher on the team. He fights to keep his voice low. “More than anything I’m curious as to _ what _.” 

Ten rolls his eyes. Sarcastically, he says, “Oh I see, I’m not here to protect you from what’s out there, I’m here to protect you from your own stupidity.” 

“That’s why I pay you the big bucks,” Yukhei says. It’s dark and difficult to see, but his hair looks soft against the pillow. 

The rest of the excursion passes in more or less the same way. They stay out for a week, everyday clambering up from their camp on the sharp rocks to the caves before the sun has fully risen. Before they do, Ten checks the protections around the camp, but never finds any sign of an attempted break-in. Ten does take his chances to peek through the tent flap, and each night sees the return of a green-tinged fog that billows up to the edge of the barriers. But whatever lurks inside keeps its distance.

Ten and Yukhei still watch each other, of course, when they think the other won’t notice. 

On the third day, Yukhei finds his pangolins. Somehow he gets them to trust him, probably using the same insane charisma that has been working its magic on Ten. In the dim light of the cave, their scales shimmer iridescent in coordinating, looping patterns across their bodies. 

It’s Ten’s opportunity to watch Yukhei work. Unlike Yukhei, he hangs back an appropriate distance from the start and observes Yukhei observing. The younger man makes detailed notes in his journal, and even spends an entire morning drawing the creature’s nest. Normally so boisterous and energetic, here Yukhei is totally calm and focused, much like how he is when listening to Ten speak. 

By the time they pack up camp and head back to Lhasa, the sexual tension between them has escalated to staggering levels, but they’ve also managed to develop a good rapport and comfort with each other. With how everything goes, Ten can almost go far enough to say the trip’s been downright _ relaxing _ (though, it’s hard to be relaxed when trying to fight off an erection in the morning because of Yukhei abs). Yukhei stays in a fantastic mood, having gotten nearly everything he hoped for out of the trip. 

The only thing he _ hadn’t _ gotten, of course, is Ten. 

“What are you going to do with the info?” Ten asks while he’s strapping up the last of his pack. Yukhei is carefully weighing the small satchel of pangolin scales he’s collected. 

“Nothing,” Yukhei says. Ten audibly chokes on his own spit and he shoots Yukhei an incredulous look, as if to say, _ then what was all of this for? _ “Normal pangolins are some of the most poached creatures in the world. Why would magical pangolins be any different? You saw how friendly they are—I have a contract to keep, but if I wrote about them, they wouldn’t stand a chance.” 

Ten wants to punch Yukhei in the face for being so kind. Instead, he heads off down the trail without him. 

It happens as a matter of course, with no warning or lead-up. They both want it—no use in pretending otherwise. On the outskirts of Lhasa, they take their stay in a bar, and there Ten rides Yukhei with a single-minded determination. Before that he’d pushed Yukhei down (Ten is small, yes, but all lithe muscles) onto the mattress, and before that he’d approached Yukhei in the warm glow of the fire and pressed their lips together. 

Yukhei is thick and hot inside Ten. The preparation wasn’t good so the stretch is biting, but to be honest, it’s nothing that Ten doesn’t already crave. Yukhei seems content to let Ten be in control, to let Ten set the pace, but he’s a good partner. He rolls his hips up into Ten according to his rhythm, gets that Ten wants to have his hips mottled with bruises by the time the sun rises. 

Ten has followed this man into the middle of nowhere, but the sex turns out to be not half-bad. Go figure. 

He grinds down onto Yukhei, drawing out the pleasure. He loves how Yukhei throws his head back into the pillows when it can’t handle what Ten is doing to him. But— “Eyes on me,” Ten commands, clutching Yukhei’s chin between his fingers. The man looks at Ten wild-eyed and desperate. He’s studied monsters from around the globe, but he looks at Ten like he’s never seen anything like him. His gaze travels from Ten’s face down his chest and the marks Yukhei put there himself to where they’re joined at the pelvis. He watches as his cock moves in and out of Ten; the way his greedy hole drags along it is obscene. 

So of course, Yukhei can’t get enough.

Ten speeds up his bounces and Yukhei gets the message, grips his hips even tighter, using his strength advantage to move Ten up and down his cock. Ten groans, and when he speaks his voice is wrecked. 

“Yes,” he hisses. “Fuck me harder, come on.” 

Yukei’s hands move to Ten’s cock, which is hard enough that with every bounce it hits Ten’s belly, making a filthy wet slap. He jerks Ten off with more enthusiasm than finesse, but Yukhei doesn’t need finesse when he has as big of a dick as he does. And he knows how to use it. Ten spills over their chests when Yukhei finally takes full control and pins Ten in place so he can thrust up into him relentlessly, hitting Ten’s prostate again and again. 

“I’m close,” Yukhei chokes out. The overstimulation builds inside Ten, but he relishes in it. As good as it would feel, and Ten will certainly be able to get off to the fantasy of Yukhei filling him with that warm heat, the potential mess of letting Yukhei come inside him is too distasteful for Ten to allow. Fortunately, there’s a quality alternative. Ten’s proud that even in his own post-orgasm haze he’s able to push himself off of Yukhei and slide further down in the V of his legs, so that he can suck Yukhei down with his mouth. 

It doesn’t take much. Ten applies the slightest amount of pressure to Yukhei’s balls and presses his tongue into the vein along the shaft. He swallows most but not all of the other’s come, purposefully allowing some of it to catch him on his lips. It’s worth it for Yukhei’s dazed and half-in-love expression when Ten flicks out his tongue and swipes at the excess along his bottom lip. 

“Have you ever tasted yourself?” Ten doesn’t wait for Yukhei to respond, probably because given enough time to consider it he likely would say no. Instead, he slinks up the length of Yukhei’s body and kisses him open-mouthed so Yukehi can get a mix of himself.

“Has anyone else told you that you’re fucking nasty?” Yukhei asks, after, when they’re laying side-by-side catching their breath. He means it as a compliment and Ten takes it as one. 

“Only the ones really after my heart,” Ten grins. 

“I want to go to Xinjiang, next,” Yukhei says. They’re on the train together, headed out of the country and into Northern India, to Darjeeling. It’s there where the two with part, Yukhei to his study in Hong Kong and Ten to wherever damn well he pleases. Maybe an island—he likes the idea of water after being up in the mountains. 

They sit on opposite sides of the compartment, but Yukhei’s legs are freakishly long, so he’s able to slide his foot up and down Ten’s calf anyways. 

Ten quirks an eyebrow, choosing for the moment to indulge Yukhei’s curiosity. “What’s in Xinjiang? It’s a desert, isn’t it?” 

“Things to research, obviously,” Yukhei replies. In an action of uncharacteristic shyness, Yukhei resits making eye-contact when he starts the next sentence. “Would you want to come with me?” 

Ten considers this proposition. A trip to Xinjiang wouldn’t just be a business trip—they’ve left those distinctions behind them, for better or for worse. Ten thinks of how much he likes Yukhei, how he laughs with his whole face, how he shakes when he comes, and really, just how surprisingly pleasant the whole Tibet trip has been for him. 

He also thinks of his parents, and how in the end they couldn’t even scream as they died. 

“No thanks,” Ten says. He pretends to act casual by propping his chin up on his wrist and gazing out the window as the landscape flashes by. He’s not being a coward by not looking at Yukhei—he’s not. “Desert climates aren’t good for my skin.” 

To his credit, Yukhei hides his disappointment well. So well, actually, that Ten has himself second-guessing if he completely misread the signals he was getting from the younger man. “Another time, then,” is all Yukhei says. 

-

**Day 320. Again. **

They’re on each other the moment the door is closed. No, before that. They’re on each other before the door is even _ open _, lewd and heated out in the open where anyone would be free to see. Ten doesn’t care, though, not when his personal affairs already seem to be known to half the planet. 

With the way the night has gone, they’re on the edge of something dangerous—both of them. Ten is in no mood to be careful, and around Yukhei, he can’t afford to be sloppy. He knows this, but Yukhei has a way of making him do stupid things. Especially not when Yukhei is not entirely in control, either. 

Yukhei uses his strength to lift Ten’s legs and pins him against the wall. The collar of his shirt gives away easily, and Ten feels the slide of Yukhei’s sharp teeth against the fine skin of his neck, and against the bruises already there. Ten gasps. 

It’s sick. Ten can’t get enough. 

Ten winds the chain around his hand and pulls back sharply. Yukhei bucks back, and from this angle Ten can clearly see the sharp points of his incisors, longer than any human’s could be. Just the sight of them made a part of Ten want to cower in fear. 

But Ten is the one in charge here, and both of them know it. Even wrapped up in Yukhei’s arms, supposedly at the mercy of the beast. 

“Don’t just stand there,” Ten says. “Take me to bed. I can’t wait any longer.”

Instead of replying, Yukhei lets out a harsh, almost primal growl. In a single movement he tosses Ten down onto the rickety metal bed, the younger man bouncing on impact, but is pulled down himself because of the chain. Yukhei catches himself with a huff, hovering carefully on his forearms, then tucks his head back into the crook of Ten’s neck and sniffs loudly. 

“Yeah? You hungry?” Yukhei runs his tongue along the column of Ten’s neck in response, action sending shockwaves down Ten’s body, to his toes and most notable, his growing erection. He’ll take that as a yes. 

With one hand still firm on the chain, Ten slides his other down his leg until he reaches the knife holster on his leg. His pants are difficult to navigate with Yukhei nearly smothering him, but in his Ten has had plenty of practice. Knife freed, he brings the glimmering blade up between their faces. 

Across the silver surface of the blade, a delicate script is engraved, the words of Ten’s Family, the same words inscribed in black across Ten’s back—_ Illuminans noctem ensis aciem. _

The glint of the blade reflects in the darkness of Yukhei’s eyes, two perfectly black orbs. Fear, lust, anger, love—it’s all there. All one in the same, for them. 

With Yukhei’s eyes tracking every muscle twitch, Ten lets go of the chain and runs the blade across his hand, the sharp surface opening the rough skin of his palm like a ripe tomato. The scarlet red of his blood blooms instantly. 

This is the true test of Yukhei’s control, and the control Ten has over him. He lets the knife fall onto the mattress, where it bounces once before tumbling and clattering onto the floor. Splayed out below Yukhei, Ten allows himself to be completely vulnerable. 

Prey. 

They don’t always feed like this—not unless they have nights like this one, where Yukhei needs more than just Ten and the chain to ground him. So Ten offers up more of himself, allows the other (man?) to take and take. 

_ That monster will kill you. _

It’s not like in the romance novels. Having a creature feed off you doesn’t feel good. There’s no aphrodisiac venom that turns the pain into euphoria. All the pleasure Ten gets from these are from his own fucked up preferences, but he’s always liked his sex to come with a little bit of pain, anyways. Any additional discomfort Ten just endures, riding the wave. 

All pain is temporary. It either stops or you die. 

Yukhei feeds like he’s dying himself—he always does. His hunger is an insatiable one, and if he weren’t bound to Ten, it would be driving him literally insane, out of what hobbled-together shreds of humanity he has left. The stream of blood from Ten’s hand is just enough to take the edge off. 

Before a hunt, Ten can’t risk giving any more. He needs to be sharp more than he needs Yukhei to be calm, so he’ll risk the potential erratic behavior tomorrow. And if all goes well, Yukhei will end this trip with a full stomach. 

Against the sharp point of his hip, Ten feels Yukhei’s erection, hard and wanting. He gets this way just for Ten. 

“Good boy,” Ten murmurs, both teasing and in appraisal. Yukhei doesn’t even seem to notice, still intent on slurping every drop of blood from the wound. When the hunger takes hold, it’s too all-consuming for Yukhei to notice his other desires. Soon enough, however, his arousal will make itself known. 

Yukhei noses at his palm when the blood slows to a trickle. Ten ends up practically petting him, running his fingers through the hair at his hairline. It’s getting long. After this, maybe Ten will convince him to cut it. The action leaves smears of Ten’s blood across Yukhei’s face. 

_ The press of hard stone underneath, the back of his shirt ridden up and the uneven surface cutting at his skin. His legs kick out wildly, trying to gain some kind of purchase. The shape of a person, no, not quite a person, crouched over him. Drops of blood (whose blood?) steadily falling onto his face. Trying not to get it in his eyes. _

_ Gun, forgotten. Nothing between him and It but for a knife. _

Underneath Ten’s insisten press, Yukhei’s pulse pounds. Not erratic like before, but fast and strong and steady. Acting on instinct alone, Ten arches up, fitting the line of his body against Yukhei’s just so. He gets far enough up to Yukhei’s shoulder before biting down and sinking his teeth in. 

Ten doesn’t have fangs, but the effect is still satisfying. Yukhei moans, loud and long. 

_ He watches the sheets slip away from Yukhei’s shoulder as he turns over in bed. The summers here are hot, and they both sleep naked but for a thin slip of cotton. He doesn’t know what drives the urge, but for Ten, he finds it’s not enough to just look, or even touch. _

_ Smoothly, he slides over to Yukhei’s side of the bed and cuddles up close to him, back to chest, hooking their legs together in a lover’s embrace. In his light sleep Yukhei sighs contentedly, always one to enjoy being held like this, always with the physical displays of affection. _

_ Without warning, Ten bites down on that unmarred, perfect flesh. _

_ When Yukhei yelps in pain, Ten laughs at him. “You’re such a baby,” Ten coos. He smooths over the bite mark with kisses. _

From there, the next battle begins. The clothes that were ignored before are swiftly removed, to the point where Ten may have some mending to do in the morning. Those details, however, are left behind in the race for pleasure and release they get caught up in. 

He knows that when he looks into his eyes, tonight Ten isn’t looking at Yukhei. More than usual he’s reminded that the lips he kisses and the fingers that bruise his hips belong to something that has shrouded Yukhei, taken his shape and form and mind. Yukhei, but not Yukhei. The difference is unstable. 

But still, he’ll take this moment. Ten is selfish, and even if all he gets from Yukhei are pieces, he’ll take it. 

The sex is hard and fast—Ten would expect no less. Yukhei takes him from behind, pounding into him with animalistic energy until Ten’s thighs are shaking and he can barely keep himself up, like Yukhei is trying to force all the air from Ten’s lungs manually. The pleasure and pain of it is almost overwhelming, and despite this, Ten continues to goad Yukhei on further. 

_ Wreck me. Destroy me. _

Sex is an exercise in contained self-destruction. 

Afterwards, when Ten is too exhausted to even get out of bed and wash up, Yukhei relaxes next to him at last. Under Ten’s fingers, his heartbeat now thrums a gentle beat. Ten lets himself be wrapped up in an embrace, sticky and sweaty as it may be. 

Before, Yukhei would be chatting away by this point. But now, he stays quiet, the cold of the chain uncomfortable against Ten’s collarbone. Instead of complaining, Ten carefully runs his hands through the tangled mess of hair at the back of Yukhei’s head. No words are exchanged, but Ten feels like an understanding passes between them anyways. 

He’s just about to fall asleep when Yukhei murmurs, “I would have killed them all for you.” 

Ten is careful with his body language, but he’s glad Yukhei can’t see his face. If Yukhei took his teeth and opened up Ten’s chest right now, he’d see the truth written across his heart, the aching pain. 

Those Hunters in the bar, Ten owes them nothing. In a few years time, many of them will be dead and it will be no fault of Ten’s, and it will be of no consequence to him, either. The Hunters in the bar were brave—they have to be, on the edge of this forest—but in their line of work the only accolade for bravery is pride, and pride gets you killed. 

But Ten trained for years, passed the test, and took an oath. _ Illuminans noctem ensis aciem— _this knife illuminates the darkness. 

“I know,” Ten says. _ And that’s the problem, _ he doesn’t. 

More than anything, Ten misses Yukhei’s smile. It was a grin so big Yukhei always got flustered by it in the sweetest way, and would cover his happiness with his hand. His joy and enthusiasm for the world and every creepy crawly in it was impossible to contain in his body, and a smile, a laugh, was his favorite form of release. 

These days, the smiles Ten gets are sharp and stained with blood. 

-

**Day 490**

“Do you love me?” 

“Yes.” Immediate. “Always.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t.” 

“Do you want me to say ‘me too?’ Because I can’t. I can’t mean it.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Do you love _ me? _” 

“Would it help you if I lied?” 

“You’re a terrible liar.” 

“You’re right. Yes, I do.” A pause. “If you didn’t love me, you could leave, be free.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“You would. Love keeps you here, nothing else.” 

“Don’t talk about some hypothetical world where I don’t love you like it’s reality. I do love you, and I’m here.” 

Silence. 

“I’m happy.” 

“What?” 

“That you’re here with me.” 

“Of course. There’s nothing for me that doesn’t include you.” 

-

**Day -1680**

It’s been the better part of a year since Ten left Germany, but it still feels like home. Anticipation runs through his veins, even if he curses himself a bit for missing his Brothers so much. Is Hendery still growing out his hair? Has Yangyang given Kun crows feet yet? 

Home is not a place—it’s not the humidity of Thailand or the view from under the kitchen table. It’s a feeling. 

Their home is in the old part of Cologne, a cramped and narrow townhouse with a pointed gothic roof. It’s close to the Rhine for a reason, because a river as old and storied as that one is as big a natural power source as anything. It draws things near, and when those things misbehave, Ten and his Brothers go after them. 

It’s also the first place they’ve lived that’s fully _ theirs _. Pieces of Taemin are woven into it, but he never got the chance to come through the doorway. 

Ten didn’t tell anyone he was coming home. Imagining Kun’s annoyed expression makes Ten smile. 

Ten hears movement inside the moment his key hits the lock. His presence would have triggered the wards, but of course, the house wants to let him inside. Before Ten can even finish undoing the many locks, the door swings open and Hendery is there, looking breathless and positively elated to see him. 

(For the record, Hendery’s hair _ has _ grown out. It suits him.) 

The noise Hendery lets out is something related to a squeal, which Ten will likely tease him for later. But for the moment, he allows himself to be pulled into a hug, with an “I knew it I knew it I knew it,” being chanted in his ear. 

“I don’t remember saying you could grow up while I was gone,” Ten says, and pinches Hendery’s cheek. 

“You’re not the boss of me anymore!” Hendery sing-songs. His arms are still insistently tight around Ten’s shoulders, like if he lets go Ten will slip away for another ten months the moment there’s a clear line to the door. 

“Oh, really?” Ten quirks an eyebrow. With relative ease, he adjusts their center of balance and uses Hendery’s momentum to send the younger boy flying to the floor, where Ten ends up above him, one knee pressed to Hendery’s chest. “Who’s all high and mighty now, hm?” 

“Not even five minutes home and you’re already causing a ruckus. In the front hall, of all places.” 

Ten turns his head, and there Kun is, leaning against the doorframe leading to the kitchen. Kun always _ did _ catch onto more of Taemin’s mannerisms than Ten did.

“My kind of ruckus is your favorite,” Ten chirps. Kun has both changed drastically and not at all. There are no crow’s feet, but the line of his shoulders somehow seems straighter. More confident, maybe. Leaving Hendery behind, Ten gets up and walks to where Kun is waiting patiently for him. They like to pretend they hate each other sometimes, but this is Ten’s first Brother, here. There’s always a special place in Ten’s heart reserved for him. 

“I missed you,” Kun whispers, too soft for Hendery to hear. What comes next counts as a confession, but one too intimate for Ten to hold against him. “It’s not the same without you.” 

Ten has gone away before for long periods of time, different hunting trips around the globe. But he’s always had a destination, and was always anchored by Taemin’s tether. 

“Did you really think I was leaving forever?” Ten asks. He holds his wrists behind Kun’s neck and they sway together like middle school students at a dance. Kun shrugs lightly—clearly he _ hadn’t _been sure. “I’ll always come back,” he promises. 

The tell-tale floorboard at the base of the stairs creaks, a dead give away that someone is trying to listen in on them without being heard. Kun’s sigh is of the long-suffering variety, as if this exact scenario has played out again and again to his annoyance. That must be Yangyang, then. 

Calling the boy out and saving him the embarrassment isn’t Ten’s style. He doesn’t need words to express his plan to Kun, either. 

“So how’s the new blood?” Ten asks, faux casual. 

“Who, wooly?” Kun replies. Ten adores the playfulness that sparkles in his eyes. “He’s like a teething toddler.” 

“Is he potty trained?” 

“Not really.” 

Down the hall, Hendery is rolling around in silent laughter. Ten wonders how long Yangyang will be able to take it. 

“Is he any good?”

“I guess you could say he’s good at doing the dishes. Other than that...” 

“Ah, I see. Well, we can make him into dragon food like the last one.There’s supposed to be one up on the Faroe Islands, did you hear?” 

“Hey!” A skinny teenager comes skidding around the corner. His face is distorted in anger, but the moment he sees Ten and Kun giggling, he turns a bright red. “I totally knew you were kidding.”

“Suuuure you did,” Hendery calls. 

“I did! How is Kun going to feed me to a dragon if he’s too old to get up the stairs by himself, anyways?” 

Yangyang’s jab makes Kun’s laughter stop immediately, but it only serves to make Ten and Hendery’s louder. Ok, maybe this kid isn’t so bad afterall. 

“You uh, must be Ten,” Yangyang says awkwardly. Like any teenager, Yangyang occilates from breathtaking, almost stupid confidence to crippling insecurity in a matter of seconds. 

“That’s me,” Ten says breezily. “I’m sure these two have told you all about my incredible accomplishments.” 

“Yeah, about how big of an accomplished _ moron _ you are,” Hendery says. Ten pointedly ignores him. 

“Oh, I mean I’ve heard _ all _ about you. Like the fairy thing? So cool—I mean, uh, yeah. I’ve heard a little.” Yangyang winces. “Pretend I didn’t say all that. Oh, God. I’m shutting up now.” 

“As far as I’m concerned, you’ve made a dazzling impression,” Ten says, tone walking the line between serious and joking. “Just your presence alone is adding years onto my life.” 

Kun rolls his eyes. “Excuse me while I go take a Xanax. You three together are already giving me a headache.” 

“Aw, how sweet,” Ten coos. “Back home and nothing has changed.” 

But things _ have _ changed, of course. The house still feels warm and comfortable, but Yangyang’s presence has irrevocably shifted things, no matter how well he seems to fit into their dynamic. Kun isn’t just Ten’s Brother now, but a teacher with a teenage apprentice of his own. It doesn’t seem so long ago that they were apprentices themselves. 

Ten’s scars are physical proof that they’re not. 

Like Ten predicted, Kun is not happy that the house isn’t clean. After their reunion has settled down, he kicks Ten and Hendery out (Yangyang, of course, has to help) of the house for a few hours, along with instructions for the butcher’s. Apparently several new shops have opened up in Ten’s absence, so Hendery drags Ten to check that out. 

“So who’s this Yukhei?” Hendery asks when once dropped into a gallery. He’s attempting to play things casual while examining a Modernist sculpture of some sadomasochist nipple torture like it’s a Rodin. Cleverly, Hendery’s taken him time in bringing the subject up, luring Ten into a false sense of security.

It’s the first thing today that’s caught Ten completely off guard. 

“Have you been talking to Sicheng?” Ten grumbles. 

Hendery’s eyes light up. “Did Sicheng introduce you two, then? Interesting.” 

“It’s not _ interesting, _” Ten snaps. “And it’s also none of your business.” 

Ten’s not sure why he’s being so defensive about Yukhei. Nothing about his—what? Relationship? Affair? Partnership? With Yukhei makes him feel embarrassed. Ten is mostly immune to shame, anyways, and he’s dragged enough boys up the stairs to desensitize Hendery and Kun to his love life. 

But maybe it’s because Hendery senses what is true—there’s something that makes Yukhei different from all the men who have come and gone through his life. 

Of course, there’s also the matter of how Hendery found out about Yukhei in the first place. But if not from Sicheng, then how? 

“Oh boy,” Hendery says. He’s practically rubbing his hands together in glee. “This is juicy.” 

“So are steaks,” Ten says. “Butcher’s. Let’s go. Now.” 

Hendery skips after him, his badgering letting up for a moment. “The only reason for you to be annoyed about this,” he observes, “is if you wanted to keep it a secret. And the only reason you would want to keep this secret is if the relationship is important. Maybe _ romantically _ important. You, Ten? Have romantic feelings for someone? What a world we’re living in, seriously.” 

“I could murder you, you know,” Ten narrows his eyes at his Brother. “And no one would find the body. Not even Kun.” 

“I know,” Hendery laughs. 

Hendery announces his finding to the Family as soon as they walk in the door. Ten’s growing annoyance is softened only slightly by the warm aroma of roasting garlic and curry spice. For the most part, Ten tries to tune Hendery and Yangyang out as they discuss theories. 

This is why raising children is pointless. They just betray you in the end. 

“So they’re all love letters?” Yangyang is saying. Ten’s head snaps up. 

“What letters?” He asks. 

“You’ve been sent mail. Quite a bit of it, actually,” Kun says. With a wooden spoon he gestures to the hutch in the corner of the kitchen, where sure enough, is a large, wobbly stack of mail. Some of them are proper packages, while others are simple postcards. All of them come from Yukhei. 

Oh, yeah. Ten _ did _give the researcher is Cologne address, didn’t he?

The package on top is the earliest one, dating back from nearly their parting in India. It’s a thick, bulging envelope, and when Ten picks it up, something shifts inside. 

_ No, he didn’t. _

But he did. When Ten slides a pair of scissors across the top of the package, he already knows what’s inside. He scoops a small handful out. Just like in Tibet, the pangolin shells are a transcendent iridescent, to the point where they seem to blink in and out of reality when the light hits them. Accompanying them is a note, written in Yukhei’s handwriting and a metal pen tip, alongside a guide to their use and properties, the very thing Yukhei said he wouldn’t published but had entrusted to Ten.

  


_ Ten, _

_ I know I paid you, but I wanted to thank you again for the help. It was so much fun to have you there with me! You make an amazing travel buddy, so let’s do it again soon, yeah? _

_ I knew you wouldn’t accept these on the spot, so forgive me if I mailed them to you without knowing when you’ll be in Cologne. Or if you’ll ever even make it back. Sorry, that was way too dark, but ink is ink. Panda snot gets almost anything out, but I don’t have any handy, so sorry again. _

_ Best, _

_ Yukhei. _

  


“Holy shit, what are those?” Hendery and Yangyang ooh and aah over his shoulder. Ten brushes them off. 

“Magical pangolin shells.” Ten passes the bag to Kun. To Yangyang, he says, “don’t touch.” 

There are dozens of other letters to go through. Everything from postcards of Hong Kong to full on letters. From Madagascar—

  


_ Ten, _

_ I know it’s weird, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I know what you’ll think—creepy, right? Or even worse, pathetic. But I don’t know, I feel like I can’t hide what’s going on in my heart from you. Somehow, I think that you’re feeling the same things I’m feeling, wherever you are in the world. So by writing this, I’m hoping that I’ll manifest something. Who knows what. _

_ Hope your travels are going well. _

_ Yours, _

_ Yukhei _

“Oh my god, they _ are _ love letters!” 

“Shut up!” Ten hisses. 

  


_ Ten, _

_ I’m in Bali. The nights here are hot, like home in Hong Kong. Nothing like Tibet. But the nights still make me horny. That’s kind of crazy to admit, but after sleeping with you, being alone sucks. Doesn’t suck, whatever. _

_ I feel like I can write anything I want to you in these letters, things I would be too shy to say out loud. You bring out the brave thoughts in me. But it’s also because I’m pretty sure you gave me a fake address and you’ll never actually see these things. _

_ I’m thinking about going to Europe. Maybe I’ll see you there and we can laugh about these. _

_ Yours, _

_ Yukhei _

Oh God, Ten is blushing. 

“Do you see that? Ten is _ blushing!” _

“Ok, the two of you, get out of my kitchen,” Kun says. The younger boys flee without another comment, because Kun is terrifying when he wants to be, and those moments usually come in some Ten-related context. He sits across from him at the table. 

“He’s got it bad for you, huh?” Kun says gently. It’s always kindness that gets to Ten. “And you for him.” 

“It’s—it’s not even like we _ had _ something. Sicheng got us together for this job in Tibet. He’s a researcher, I’m sure you’ve read some of his stuff. The trip went smoothly, and we slept together a few times. It wasn’t a big deal, seriously.” 

Kun’s expression is soft, but not approaching pity. “It sounds like some kind of deal,” he says, which Ten already knows. “I hate to break it to you, but this Yukhei is under your skin. Deep.” 

“I should just burn these,” Ten says, which sounds utterly unconvincing even to his own ears. 

“I hate to invoke him all the time, but you know what Taemin would say,” Kun says. Ten understands exactly. “Detachment isn’t the way. _ Supprema venemur, ut qui defendat nos amare— _we hunt to protect who we love. That implies having someone to love in the first place.” 

Ten bites his lip. He won’t say what he fears out loud. Luckily, Kun knows him well enough for it not to matter. 

“I know you’re scared of losing people, but—”

“_ It’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all _,” Ten recites. “Yeah, yeah. You’re so cheesy Kun. That’s not even Tennyson’s actual phrasing.” 

“Am I wrong, though?” 

No, he’s not.

-

**Day 365**

Exactly one year. Yukhei is probably unaware, but Ten has secretly been counting up to this day. 

They’ve made it to North America, heading south towards Mexico, then maybe all the way into South America. Ten wants to avoid deserts, but the warm weather makes Yukhei feel more energized, brighter, like a plant. They’ve acquisitioned a pickup truck, and instead of booking motel after motel, they set up tarps and sleep tangled together in the back at night. 

Yukhei’s been doing—well, _ good _ probably isn’t the word for it, but _ better _ since leaving Europe. Ten’s been allowing his foolish heart to hope. 

The towns they drive through are dry and barren. There are strange layers of culture—diehard American here, Hispanic there, Native American right next door. It seems like a place that’s transient, that doesn’t quite know what it is. Fitting, for them. 

People here stare when they see a grown man wearing a chain collared around his neck, so for the most part, Yukhei stays in the car when they’re around others. It’s a shame, because Yukhei used to love other people, and would talk to strangers for hours, like they were puzzles to figure out. Instead, Ten only lets him inside deserted gas stations and diners open late into the night. 

Ten gets jobs here and there. It’s good for them both to be busy. His contact is an American named Johnny, who he first meets in Albuquerque, at a breakfast place that seems a bit too hip to be _ just _ a Hunter meeting spot. It’s also down the street from a motel that charges by the hour.

Ten wonders how often this move works on people. 

Johnny tries to slide his foot alongside Ten’s under the table. Ten raises an eyebrow at him. In another life, Ten would take Johnny up on his unspoken offer. He’s tall with broad shoulders that Ten could climb, exactly his type. But it’s been five years since Ten’s been interested in anyone besides Yukhei, and when Ten looks at Johnny, there’s not a hint of arousal in his bones. 

“You know my boyfriend is waiting in the car, right? And his teeth are _ sharp _.” 

Johnny smiles easily and the advance retreats. The expression on his face says he’s not at all troubled by the rejection. 

“You don’t have a southern accent,” Ten says, taking a sip of his offensively bad hipster coffee. “I’m disappointed.” 

“You have a British accent,” Johnny retorts. Touche. “I’m originally from Chicago.” 

“What brought you here?” 

“Same as you—work. You know, you’re nothing like the rumors.” 

Ten laughs. “And what _ do _ the rumors say?” 

Johnny shrugs. “That you’re an unapproachable, stuck up, and possibly insane Ice Queen.” In Ten’s mental scoresheet, he gives Johnny a few more points. He has to respect the man’s willingness to say that kind of thing straight to Ten’s face. Not that Ten is surprised. He’s been doing a lot of bridge burning lately. 

It’s nice to be able to talk to someone like Johnny, who’s evaluated the facts and come to the conclusion that he doesn’t care. But it’s time to get down to business. 

“What do you have for me?” Ten asks. From his canvas tote Johnny pulls out a nondescript folder and a flash drive. 

“There’s enough in there to keep you busy all the way through Mexico. If you make it past that, I know a guy in Chile. I figured with your... situation, you’d want to stay out of major population centers. This will be a lot of hunting down ‘something ate my farm animal’ leads.” 

“Not an issue, Yukhei has a good nose.” 

“And one more thing.” Johnny takes a marker out and scrawls something on one of the thin napkins. When he slides it over to Ten, he can see that it’s a phone number. “I want you to have this.” 

“Um, sorry, I thought you got the signal. I’m not—”

“It’s not about that. It’s just... if you need some help, give me a call. There’s another rumor going around, about what went down with your Family. I figure you could use friendly face—or voice.” 

A mix of emotions stirs in Ten’s chest. He stares down at the black ink and tells Johnny thank you. He even means it, though he knows now he’ll never use the number. He’ll probably never see Johnny again. 

“Don’t be a stranger,” Johnny says. After that, he takes his bag and leaves. 

Ten returns to the truck with the folder in hand and a dangerously undercooked steak. Yukhei has the passenger side seat reclined all the way back and is lying with a bucket hat over his face. He sits up as soon as Ten opens the door, pressing a quick but hard kiss against his mouth. 

“Let’s roll, cowboy.” Ten tosses the takeout with the steak onto Yukhei’s lap and pulls the truck out of the parking lot, then out of the city entirely. 

It feels like time passes differently in the desert. Sunset seems to go on for hours, and no matter how long they drive, Ten can never tell if those mountains in the distance are getting any closer. As they drive, Yukhei’s hand curls around Ten’s knee. 

On the one year anniversary, Ten wakes at dawn. They’ve parked behind a long-defunct gas station, but when Ten goes to sit on the hood of the truck, it’s to study the distant horizon. Somehow it’s unexpected, but the desert is cold at night and early mornings. He appreciates it—he always feels a little more sober, a little more grounded, when the chilly air hits his skin. 

It’s good for thinking. 

Ten pulls out his phone. As expected, there are missed calls and unanswered messages waiting for him, like there is everyday. Much like how the whole situation has gone, Ten wonders how long he can ignore his problems before they’re clamped down on his neck. 

The majority are from Hendery. He seems to believe that by texting Ten random everyday things, he’ll respond like normal, like nothing has happened at all. A few are from Yangyang, definitely trending more to the concerned and questioning side. There are two from Renjun. 

_ He didn’t mean it _

And, 

_ If you die before you talk to him, you’ll regret it. _

Both of which are very Renjun-like statements. Ten has never been close to Kun’s second apprentice, but he’s always appreciated the kid’s attitude. 

But then, there are the calls from Kun. There are two texts, as well, but they simply read _ call me _ and _ sorry. _Kun knows that Ten isn’t going to just accept those texts and respond to him—Ten is far more stubborn than that. But it’s an attempt, which is more than the silent treatment Ten is giving Kun. 

When they fought before leaving Europe, they both said things they regret. 

Without thinking too much, Ten dials a number. Despite the time difference, which Ten doesn’t bother to calculate, Renjun picks up on the second ring. 

“Ten. Hey,” he says, sounding rightly confused as to why Ten is calling him, of all people. 

“Hey kid. What’s up?” 

“Trying to be casual, really?” 

“You’re right, that’s really stupid. How’s Kun?” 

Renjun sighs into the receiver. “He’s... weird. Everything is weird around here. He goes from hating you one hour to depressed the next. I think he’s contacted everyone you know trying to track you.” 

“He’s not trying to come find me, is he?” 

“I don’t think he actually will.” 

“Right. Anything else?” 

“Well, he still feels like you betrayed him. Us, I guess, but he’s taking the whole thing personally. He’s been talking about Taemin a lot, saying how you’re turning your back on his memory. But he’s also conflicted, because wouldn’t he do the same for us? I think more than anything he’s just pissed beyond belief you brought a Yaoguai into the house.” 

“Sound like Kun.” 

“Ten? I want you to listen to me, because I know why you did it. You love him. Sure, I can understand that. I’m sure he was an incredible person, and I’m sorry I never got to know him. But that guy is also gone now. This path has no exit. The situation is terminal.” 

Ten presses his palm against his forehead. “Everyone talks to me like I’m oblivious. Like I don’t already _ know _. I knew how this would turn out the moment I made the choice not to kill him. I always knew being a Hunter would kill me—this isn’t the worst way it could happen.” 

“_ Supprema venemur, ut qui defendat nos amare,” _Renjun says softly. 

Ten snorts. “Five years ago, Kun told me the same thing.” 

“I won’t try to talk you out of a choice you already made. But Ten? You don’t have to fight alone.”

“Thanks, Renjun. It’s ok to tell Kun we talked. Actually, tell him I’m doing fine. _ We’re _ doing fine. He’ll have to wait a bit, but I’ll call him when I’m ready.” 

“I will. Good luck, Ten.” 

“Bye.” 

It doesn’t take Yukhei long to notice Ten’s absence. Within ten minutes of ending the call Yukhei stumbles out of the back of the truck, wobbling on drowsy legs. Ten opens his body to him, like a flower in bloom, and Yukhei comes to stand in front of Ten and the truck, folding himself into Ten’s hug. For a while, they do nothing but stand there with each other. 

“I wonder what would happen if we tried eating cacti,” Yukhei says. 

“Where the fuck did that come from?” Ten asks. Yukhei looks up at him with his adorable puppy dog eyes. Eyes that, for the moment, couldn’t hurt a fly. Eyes that have just enough of the past in them to make Ten keep searching for a future. 

“Dunno, just thinking. I had a dream we got naked and danced and you threw a cactus at me.” 

Ten’s face scrunches up in giggles. A year ago, they’d be laughing about Yukhei’s stupid jokes together. The most Ten gets today is a soft smile. Hey, he’ll take. 

“It’s going to be a beautiful day,” Ten says. He cradles Yukhei’s head between his hands and peppers it with kisses. “Let’s celebrate by killing something.” 

-

**Day 321**

As a function of his life, Ten is used to violence. An act of terrible violence was what put him on this path in the first place. But there’s still something stomach-rolling about seeing Yukhei’s teeth tear into flesh, especially when that thing is still alive and wailing. 

To Ten’s right: one of the hags, death rattling around in its rotten lungs. The second hag is already dead from where Ten’s perfect shot hit it in the eye. And the third—

Ten watches as Yukhei really latches onto the third hag’s neck and grabs one arm and _ pulls _. The popping sound is terrible on its own, but this is part of the promise Ten made to himself over three hundred days ago. He won’t look away. 

The thick layer of leaves overhead and the dimming light of the evening shades the ground, so that the blood and innards of the hags blends in with soft peat. 

When they started on the hag’s trails, the creatures had been carefully covered their path since their run in with the previous Hunters. Their efforts were nothing when put up against Ten’s experience and Yukhei’s nose, however. 

It had been the exact kind of hunt Ten was looking for: first outsmarting his opponents and then overpowering them at the end. Ten completed his job—three more pieces of evil are gone from the world. 

Somehow it feels like a hollow victory. 

He waits at the periphery until Yukhei has finished his... meal. Hopefully it will be enough to last him for awhile; until then, Ten will continue searching out jobs for them that serve this purpose. There’s still plenty of darkness in Eastern Europe that they can tackle. It’s always the old parts of the world with the deepest shadows. 

Ten’s heart longs for Germany, now only a train ride away. Kun and his Brothers, they all _ know _ , because he at least had the decency to warn them before the news spread, but he hasn’t talked to any of them about it. So far, he’s been extremely successful at avoiding all texts that have any mention of Yukhei, though his brother do _ try _. They’re all worried about him, but he wonders how they would really feel if he showed up at the house with a monster. 

Talking about bringing home someone who will disappoint your family. 

When Yukhei is finished and all the bones stripped clean, he approaches Ten with a bright smile as if he hadn’t just consumed living flesh, tainted with evil or otherwise. He wraps an arm around Ten’s waist, and the Hunter just narrowly dodges the kiss. He wouldn’t be able to take that. 

“You’re breath is gross,” Ten whines. What he does instead is drop to his knees. Sticks and leaves crunch under unprotected bone uncomfortably, but it’s hardly the worst thing Ten has endured for the sake of release.

No, not _ endured _. Sex isn’t something to be endured, and Yukhei deserves to be rewarded for his good behavior. 

“I’m proud of you, puppy,” Ten whispers into the leather of Yukhei’s pants. Any wet patches he finds he chooses to believe are because of Yukhei’s arousal and not any other bodily fluid. “Now let me make you feel good.” 

Ten has always loved Yukhei’s dick. There’s a lot to love about how it sits thick and heavy in his mouth, the way his precome runs hot down his throat and coats his lips. Even here on the forest floor it sparks Ten’s own erection. 

God, he’s fucked up. This whole situation is fucked up, but Ten doesn’t want it to stop. 

He gives it to Yukhei sloppy, racing them both towards release. Yukhei is already wound tight and pumping with adrenaline, so Ten sets to work by swirling his tongue around the head and pressing it across the thick vein on the underside. 

Yukhei groans harshly and grabs two fistfulls of Ten’s hair, sending vibrations all the way to the cock in Ten’s mouth. Ten takes him as deep as he can go, using his fist to make up where his mouth can’t reach. Yukhei’s dick throbs, and trapped in his pants, so does Ten’s. 

Ten breathes out through his nose as stray spit bubbles out of the corner of his mouth. It’s the sleaziest he’s ever felt, and probably not what Taemin has in mind when he taught him to hold his breath for long periods of time. 

As soon as he begins to gag, Yukhei’s eyes roll back in his head. Yukhei loves him like this—he loves Ten in every position, including getting pushed around by him—but he perhaps loves the Ten who is desperate to please him most of all. And beyond all hope, Ten _ is _ desperate for it. 

At the end of it, Ten spits Yukhei’s cum onto the ground, the white goo joining the mess on the forest floor. He uses the sleeve of his jacket to wipe the saliva off his chin, cringing when some stray hag blood flakes off onto his face. 

Ten gets pulled to his feet. Yukhei strokes one hand up and down Ten’s neck, and rubs the other one through Ten’s greasy hair. In the darkness of the woods, what stands out are Yukhei’s eyes—and how _ normal _they look. Yukhei looks at him with love in his eyes, like his entire world is standing in front of him and he’s lucky enough to get to hold it in his arms. 

Yukhei leans forward and licks the blood off Ten’s face. 

-

**Day -463**

“Oh _ fuck _, right there baby.” 

Yukhei thrusts up again, hard length pounding ruthlessly against Ten’s prostate. Ten sees white with each thrust, and the heightened emotions of the moment probably have something to do with it. Yukhei’s hands are gripped vice-like around Ten’s hips.

He flips them over, maneuvering Ten to kneel cradled between the v of his legs. He sits there with sweat-slicked hair and chest mottled with sensitive red love bites, watching Ten as Ten watches him back. 

Ten opens his mouth and lets his tongue fall out lazily, begging in the lewdest way he knows how. 

Yukhei doesn’t fall for the bait, however, not like how he would have years ago. It’s been four years since whatever kind of relationship they’ve fallen into began. Ten is twenty-seven, now, with a handful of more scars, including the still-fresh wound on his shoulder from where the ghoul caught him that will surely add to his collection. Yukhei, now, has some of his own to show off. 

But Yukhei’s twenty-four is younger than Ten’s ever was. He still has quite the penchant for getting in trouble, which is why Ten had to save him from a ghoul-infested warehouse rave only a few hours before. 

“You’re focusing on something,” Yukhei says. He rolls his hips in small, teasing circles, providing Ten just enough pressure to be edged along further but get driven no further to release. “that’s not me.” 

“So demanding of my attention,” Ten huffs. “Come here. I want to kiss you more.” 

That, Yukhei obeys. Their lips meet and Ten pulls his legs higher and wider. Yukhei begins rolling his hips again in earnest, renewing their previous pace. 

Ten will never get sick of how Yukhei feels inside him. 

-

**Day 400**

_ “Ow, fuck _ . _ ” _ Ten swears. He jolts awake in a split second, instinct taking over for a moment, thrashing out a leg to heave the weight on his torso up and _ off _. 

Yukhei’s bite on his arm isn’t strong, and when Ten pushes him, he falls off the bed entirely. But his teeth still scrape across Ten’s arm, opening up two lines of tears in the skin and leaving fire in its wake. His blood splashes onto the cheap motel comforter. 

“Shit.” Ten gets to the med kit on the bureau and wraps his arm in a thick layer of gauze. He’s got a wound salve, somewhere. “Yukhei—” 

When he turns around, he sees Yukhei kneeling on the floor with his face pressed into the bed, in the places where Ten’s blood landed. 

He should have expected this. Yukhei hasn’t been doing well lately. 

Setting his shoulders and gathering as much determination as he can, Ten walks over to Yukhei and shoves him flat onto the floor with a close to violent push of his foot. Straddling him, Ten grabs the chain. He watches as Yukhei thrashes under his at first, more wild beast than human, then, gradually, relaxes. 

The violence came quickly and ended quickly. That’s all it took for Ten’s arm to get shredded. 

“I’m sorry,” Yukhei whispers after what seems like hours creep by in tense, shameful silence. He still has Ten’s blood on his lips. “I’m so sorry, for everything. I should have listened to you in Crete.” 

He can’t help it—Ten’s lip trembles at the memory. 

“No,” he says, “I’m sorry for Crete. I could have done more to make you stay. I let this happen to you, and I’ll never forgive myself for it.” 

-

  


**Day -80**

In Crete, they fuck lazily all over their rented cabin. It’s something about the dry, hot weather that makes Ten feel more relaxed than he has in ages. 

Everything inside is light and bright. In Crete, there is a lack of shadows. 

In a series of five years that has seen the two of them criss-cross the world, following each other and the monsters where they will, Crete is supposed to be a vacation. Or as much as a break as either of them will allow themselves. 

Yukhei’s writing a book, a proper one. It was Ten who first introduced him to the publisher, a man named Taeyong working out of Istanbul. _ Constantinople _, Yukhei calls it, the pretentious scholarly asshole he can sometimes be. In the time that Ten has known him, he’s published yards of research papers and bestiary pages. But Yukhei’s book isn’t a guide on creatures—it’s more philosophical than that. 

Ten does _ try _ to be interested. He wants to be a good partner. But in the end, all he really cares about is how to kill the creatures Yukhei finds so fascinating. 

(One of the only fights they’ve ever had was about how Ten hates and kills things so indiscriminately.)

In the mornings, instead of rising with the sun as he has for years and years, Ten allows himself to sleep in. The cabin is by the ocean, and they leave the window open as to listen to the waves. Even when the morning light shines insistent and annoying through the linen curtains, Ten just curls up and rolls around in the sheets like a sleeping, stretching cat. 

Yukhei is almost never there when Ten wakes. For a change, _ he’s _ the one getting up early to write in the morning, doing so by the kitchen window with a view of the cliffs and the sea. He says it’s when he gets his best thinking done. 

That is, until Ten pulls himself out of bed and inevitably wanders over to the writing desk, draping his silk body across Yukhei’s back. He whispers in Yukhei’s year, hot around the shell, the filthiest things he can imagine. He rubs at the toned muscles of his back and the tense shoulders knotted from being hunched over with a paper and pen for hours. 

“Come back to bed,” Ten whispers, then, but usually they don’t make it that far. 

After that, Ten goes for his run along the white beaches of the shores, against the blindingly blue Meditteranean and the raw edge of the mountain peaks. Some days he stops by the village for errands, but he never stays to talk to the locals. He can barely speak Greek, anyways, but Yukhei is the one who loves to talk with them. They put up with Ten begrudgingly because they like his lover. 

The days pass like that. Mornings into evenings into mornings again. 

Time crawls by like drizzles of warm honey. 

When he climbs up the rocky steps to their cabin, Ten whistles the tunes Taemin taught him. There’s something in the air, maybe, that makes him want to sing. Some notes on the wind. 

The day is clear and warm. It seems like every day is. 

He pokes his head into the house. No one in the kitchen. “Yukhei?” 

“Mmmh?” The disembodied voice responds. Ten follows the trail into the sitting room, which has been taken over by Yukhei’s research materials. Said man is curled up on the couch with his head stuck in a thick tomb of a book. 

Ten brandishes the wine bottle he picked up in town that afternoon. “Does dinner on the dock tonight sound good?” 

“No!” Yukhei starts. “I mean—aren’t we going into the village? I keep saying Yannis wants to cook for us.” 

Ten frowns. “Crete is getting your head all tied together, we’re going to Yannis’ the day after tomorrow. Come on, we haven’t eaten down there since we arrived.” 

“I don’t think the salt air goes good with food,” Yukhei defends. 

“Whatever. If you’re not coming with me I’ll go alone.” Ten walks back into the kitchen, where he begins opening draws and grabbing jars at random, just to make noise. Yukhei will follow his lead eventually. He always does. And sure enough, it takes Yukhei but a few minutes to break down. 

“Ok, ok, dinner on the docks. Now what wine did you get?” 

They drink red. It’s not Ten’s preference, but it _ is _Mediterranean. Ten sits in Yukhei’s lap as they eat the typical meal of bread, cheese, and olives, and Yukhei rubs his stomach gently underneath his shirt. A hot wind picks up over the water. 

All throughout dinner they talk about ancient things, history and philosophy and archeology. Yukhei likes the ancient Greek thinkers and has read all their texts in actual Greek, because he sees it as more legitimate. In a surprise to himself, Ten has found himself enjoying archeology, and some days he’s gone to visit some of the sites around the island. It’s a puzzle, like Hunting is. Or perhaps Hunting is more like a history lesson. 

There’s another thing about this ancient island Ten likes, too. It’s here, sitting on the dock with him. 

“What about old places make them so romantic?” Ten muses. 

“Something about all the years of love and loss building up on each other,” Yukhei replies. He hunches his back so he can hook his chin over Ten’s shoulder. “Makes the sad things sadder, the happy things happier.” 

“I feel so out of time here,” Ten says. “Like years have passed without me noticing.” 

“I bet you’ll get bored of it.” 

“Yeah,” Ten says. Ten chortles. His mood is as light as the wind. “You’re probably right. When that happens I’ll just drag you somewhere else.” 

“I’m not finished writing yet,” Yukhei says quietly.

“Oh, you can write anywhere,” Ten says, flippant. He waves his hand in dismissal, and Yukhei’s hands retreat from his waist. Ten arches his neck to look at the younger man, brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m not done here,” Yukhei says. His eyes support how serious his tone is. Ten’s laugh comes out a bit incredulous, a bit cruel. 

“We’re not leaving _ now. _ No reason to get your panties in a twist.” 

“I don’t want to leave,” Yukhei says, firm. With a huff, Ten pushes himself out of his lap. Sometimes, talking to Yukhei is like talking to a brick wall. 

“Well, _ I _ don’t understand your problem. What’s your deal right now, huh?” When Yukhei falls silent and turns his eyes to the ground, Ten says, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

Ten walks to the end of the dock. The wood is old and rough against the unprotected flesh of his feet, and it feels like he’s vulnerable to a splinter at any moment. But beyond that, the Mediterranean is vast and beautiful spread out before him, which is what he tries to focus on, instead. He goes up to the very edge of the dock and hooks his toes over the edge. 

The trouble with love, Ten thinks, is that it blinds you. It’s the most powerful force in the world, and according to Ten’s first law of motion, objects in love tend to stay in love. Ten really doesn’t want to fight.

In some secret cavern of his heart, Ten harbors the belief that happiness is just a ploy. It’s all about not knowing the difference between being truly happy and just pretending to be. Both things are necessary to try and make a relationship work. The entire time they’ve been in Crete, Yukhei has been off, but it’s just that Ten hasn’t wanted to see it. He still doesn’t. Maybe if he stands here looking at the sea for long enough, it will wash away his gnawing anxiety. 

“Careful!” Yukhei is suddenly behind him, clutching at his arm. Fear is written across his face, but Ten can’t understand his reason to be. “There are snakes.” 

“Snakes,” Ten says flatly. 

“Yeah. Snakes. Yannis told me about them,” Yukhei says. His eyes are begging Ten to believe him. “I’m sorry. Let’s go back to the house. Please, Ten?” 

Objects in love tend to stay in love. Ten lets Yukhei pull him back inside. 

When they fall into bed, Ten on his back against the sheets, he closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to think anymore, so all he has to do is fall into his own pleasure. He lets Yukhei hold his hand as they fall asleep. 

Ten returns to the waking world some hours later. Yukhei isn’t in bed, as is to be expected, but what’s unusual is that it isn’t morning, but late in the night. And by the cold feeling of the bed beside Ten, he hasn’t been there for some time. Ten could just leave it. 

He’s not going to do that. 

Ten leaves the bed in one of Yukhei’s shirts that goes down past his boxers. “Yukhei?” he calls, to no answer. All the lights are off, but the moon shines in brightly through the windows, so Ten ghosts through the rooms and hallways in his bare feet. Searching for something to feel connected to, he trails his fingers over the walls as he walks. He feels unmoored. 

He finds nothing, but when he looks out of the window he can see the light of a lantern down at the docks. 

It’s instinct that drives him to get his knife before going. 

Ten hears Yukhei before he sees him. He’s talking, just _ chatting _, and while Yukhei mumbling to himself is not unusual, there’s something thick and uneasy crawling up Ten’s neck. He remembers years ago feeling the same way when he was young and inexperienced, but he’s not a child anymore. Fear doesn’t make his heart race like it once did. 

Even when he gets close, Yukhei still doesn’t notice him. In the light the lantern casts, Ten sees Yukhei’s notebook spread out beside him where he kneels at the end of the dock. Yukhei isn’t speaking to himself, but to someone. Some_ thing. _

Only when the dock creaks does Yukhei’s head spin around. His eyes, filled with frenzied panic, land first on Ten’s face, then on his knife. 

“Wait,” he hisses, holding up a hand. 

“What,” Ten replies, voice just as soft but with a sharp edge. “The _ fuck _ are you doing?” 

_ Your eyes are your most deceitful sense, _ Taemin used to say. So Ten takes his eyes of Yukhei and lets his ears do the seeing. Without Crete’s romantic miasma covering his gaze, he finds himself able to get a clearer picture of the situation. He can hear that the music on the wind is not just _ atmosphere _ after all, but a faint singing. 

Sirens. Yukhei is cavorting with _ sirens _. 

He’s done some stupid, dangerous things in the past, but nothing like this. 

“It’s ok,” Yukhei says in a frantic whisper. “I’m studying them. They’re—they’re friendly! Here, I’ll show you.” 

“Yukhei, don’t!” Ten says at the same moment Yukhei leans forward over the dock. Ten sees a scaled arm reaches out of the water and grasps the back of Yukhei’s shirt. That’s all Ten needs before he’s lurching forward, making it to the end of the dock in only a few steps. 

He can imagine the future—the splash Yukhei makes when he falls into the water, Ten jumping in after him, fighting and splashing in the darkness, inky seawater in his lungs. 

Instead, Ten gets there in time. With a slash of his knife the siren’s arm nearly comes off entirely. A shrill, ear-piercing scream to fill the air, and both Ten and Yukhei stumble backwards. The creature’s strange, silvery blood pools on the dock and stains Ten’s hands, Yukhei’s shirt. 

“Why the fuck did you do that!?” Yukhei screams. He buries his head in his hands and moans, pained, as if by saving his life Ten has made some fatal error. “There’s no way they’ll ever trust me now.” 

“_ That’s _ what you’re thinking about?” Ten’s disbelief is palpable. His anger gives the air an electric charge. _ Don’t touch me, or I’ll fucking zap you. _ “Your research? You almost just _ died _ and you’re talking about your research right now? Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable!” 

“I was fine! There was nothing to worry about until you came here!” 

Ten narrows his eyes into furious slits. “Without me,” he grits out. “You’d be fish food.” 

“You know, I don’t need you babying me all the time. I’m the person with all the information here. I think I can handle myself.” 

“If you’re so sure about that, why did you try so hard to hide the sirens from me?” 

“Because all you think about it killing things!” Yukhei explodes. “You don’t want to know about anything, only about killing them! It’s... it’s disgusting!” 

“I kill things that are _ dangerous, _ ” Ten says. “That’s always been your problem, huh? Sure you can fill up pages and pages about creatures, but when it comes down to it, you’re _ clueless _ about their true nature. You want to make _ nice _ with fucking _ sirens! _ You’re right—I babied you, and now you can’t see the truth. You’re still just an ignorant kid.” 

Ten’s words are venom. Fighting is not always about physical strength, but how badly you can hurt your opponent wherever it counts. And Yukhei’s weak point is his fragile heart. And Ten is very good at fighting. He knows where to slot his words in between the chinks of Yukhei’s nearly impenetrable confidence. Ten knows because it was Yukhei himself who told him about these insecurities, after one of many late nights wrapped up in each other. 

It works almost instantaneously. Yukhei deflates like a balloon. In a small voice, he says, “That’s what you really think of me?”

Without speaking another word, Yukhei gets up and brushes past Ten on his way back up to the cabin. Maybe it would be better to give him space, but in Ten’s mind, he has no choice but to follow him. Inside, he finds Yukhei stuffing his research notes and some clothing into a bag. Random things, like a novelty t-shirt and sweatpants. 

“Where are you going? It’s the middle of the night.” Ten is suddenly exhausted. They’ll go to bed in separate rooms, and in the morning, they’ll sort things out. 

“You know? I think I’ll go to Xinjiang like I’ve always wanted to. Maybe I’ll learn how to be a real man there, you know, like you want me to be.” 

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Ten snaps. He _ should _ be trying to de-escalate, but Ten has never been one to back down when someone is throwing shots at him. 

Neither of them do back down, and the fight follows them from room to room until there’s nowhere left to go, and Yukhei is standing in front of the door with a fully packed bag. 

“I’ll show you what I’m capable of,” Yukhei says, like a promise. 

_ Don’t go _ , Ten wants to say, and the urge is so strong he has to bite down on his tongue until it bleeds just to stop the words from coming out. _ At least tell him you love him _. 

But Ten does neither, and Yukhei leaves. 

-

**Day -1567**

The letters and postcards keep coming in steady streams, until one day, one of them announces that Yukhei will be coming to Amsterdam and asks Ten, if he’s getting these, to come meet him. It’s a decision Ten doesn’t have to think about too hard—he books a cheap flight the next day. 

Giddy excitement churns in his veins. Suddenly he’s just like a teenager again. 

He doesn’t tell Hendery and Yangyang where he’s going. The teasing would have no end. He tells Kun the truth, because his Brother has worried about him enough, but as far as the others are concerned, he’s going to visit a contact in Paris. And who knows—maybe he and Yukhei _ will _ end up in France. 

Ten doesn’t know where things are headed with Yukhei, but he’s interested to find out. 

Like most people who spent their youth in Western Europe, it’s not Ten’s first visit to Amsterdam. The city attracts all sorts, from monsters to Hunters alike. He wishes he could be with Yukhei when he first flies into the city, the first time he sees the maze of canals from a birds eye view. 

Fall is Amsterdam’s most fitting season. He settles down in Dam Square to wait for Yukhei’s arrival, leaning casually against the national monument. The light chill matches the red brick, a city gone dark at the edges with age. 

Sometimes, he thinks that Europe has a masochism problem—the entire continent is plagued with memory. No wonder it’s infested with ghosts. 

By Ten’s trusty, nearly indestructible watch, Yukhei is due to arrive any minute. It suddenly seems to stupid, so poorly planned, for Ten to be here. He has no idea if Yukhei is even going to show up, anyways, just like how Yukhei doesn’t even know Ten got all his letters. Holding onto a thin strand of hope, Ten hoists himself up onto the monument to get a better view. 

There are probably hundreds of people moving through the square, but still, Ten sees him. Yukhei, dyed blond hair grown out more, showing a peek of his dark roots. He’s walks across the square at a brisk pace, but he looks nervous, too, with his head on a swivel. He hasn’t spotted Ten, who ducks behind the monument before he can be seen. Now that he’s actually _ seen _ Yukhei, he feels confident, even a little mischievous. 

Ten sneaks around the back of the monument until he reaches the perfect vantagepoint to study Yukhei. He looks... good. There’s no other way to put it, and Ten’s heart pangs with an emotion he’s not familiar with. The long hair makes Yukhei look even younger, sweeter, and so does the baggy, caramel colored sweater he’s wearing. Ten should get him some leather—Yukhei would look good in leather. 

It’s obvious Yukhei is nervous from his body language. He keeps looking around like Ten will appear at any moment, coming out from the shadows, but it doesn’t take long for his shoulders droop. Ten’s disappointed that Yukhei gave up on him so quickly. 

“Expecting someone?” Ten says from directly behind Yukhei. The boy nearly jumps straight out of his skin, but when he spins around he wears a bright grin on his face. 

“Ten!” he cries in delight. Without giving Ten a warning Yukhei wraps his arms around him in a crushing hug that lifts Ten straight off the ground. Yukhei laughs, warm and happy, in his ear and it’s wonderful. “I—I—you’re here! You actually came! Oh my god, that means you read all those letters I sent you. Gah! That’s so embarrassing. But you’re here!” 

“Yeah, I’m here.” Ten never does this. After the initial rush, his confidence stumbles. “I‚uh, it’s nice to see you. You look good.” 

Yukhei beams.

“Come on,” Ten says, “there’s so much for you to see.” 

Yukhei takes to Europe well. He likes how history is written on every wall and cobblestone and how, despite intense modernization, the old exists beside the new street after street. Ten takes him to some of the more stereotypical tourist things, but some things less so, too. They walk along the canals together and Ten wonders if he could convince Yukhei to smoke some pot with him. When in Europe, as they say. 

Just like in Tibet, everything seems to excite Yukhei. Ten sees the city in a new light through the younger man’s eyes. When Ten is with Yukhei he feels more alive. 

In the afternoon, Ten brings Yukhei to the lab of another researcher, the quiet Xiaojun, who Kun works with regularly. His office is like a cabinet of curiosity, at first glance too packed and crowded to be organized, though Xiaojun never has a problem locating anything he’s looking for. Although Xiaojun is shy, with Yukhei they talk animatedly in Mandarin, because Yukhei can make an extrovert out of anyone. 

In fact, they talk shop for so long, Ten thinks they may never leave. His fingers itch for activity, and trouble. Or it could be the shrunken goblin heads Xiaojun keeps around making him uneasy. 

“Should we ride along the canals?” Ten asks when they leave. Yukhei is grinning from ear to ear, and as they day has gone on the two have drifted closer together until now, where whenever they walk their shoulders and hands brush together. 

“In what?” 

“A car,” Ten says, deadpan. “On bikes, what else?” 

“I uh,” Yukhei say sheepishly. He has a nervous tick where he covers his mouth with his hand when he’s embarrassed that Ten thinks is adorable. “Don’t know how to ride a bike.” 

Ten gapes at him. “Seriously? Did you _ have _ a childhood? Clearly, this is something that needs to be remedied immediately.” 

The next thing they know, Ten is helping Yukhei wrangle a rented bicycle on a smooth patch of pavement alongside one of the canals. Yukhei clearly works out, but for someone so strong, he doesn’t have a great understanding of his own body and is almost constantly in a state of nearly unbalance. More than once he goes tumbling to the ground. Instead of being annoyed and impatient, Ten finds the whole thing rather charming. 

“Ok,” Ten says for the third time. Both of his hands hold Yukhei around the waist. “Push off with your right foot and lift your left to meet the pedal. Once you’ve got both feet secure, lean back onto the seat. Don’t force the steering and you’ll be fine.” 

“Aw, dude! No kiss for good luck?” Yukhei teases innocently. It’s the first move either of them have made outright, though to Ten it’s welcome.

“Sorry, how could I forget.” Before Yukhei can react, Ten gives him a chaste peck on the cheek. It feels more intimate than when they first fucked. “Go get ‘em, cowboy.” 

Yukhei pushes off with enthusiasm—too much enthusiasm, actually. He doesn’t pedal more than five times before his careens off to the side and this time, almost dunks himself straight into the canal. Behind him, watching the whole thing unfold, Ten howls with laughter. 

“I think this counts as a miserable failure,” Ten giggles. It’s been... never, actually, since Ten has enjoyed spending time with someone other than his Brothers this much. The mysterious, charismatic effect of Wong Yukhei. 

They go to dinner after that, when the sun has set, and drink copious amounts of wine just because they can. 

“Do you want to go to the redlight district after?” Ten asks. “It’s a staple, everyone has to see it.” 

Yukhei shrugs, but when he returns Ten’s eye contact, his gaze is intense. “I’m honestly not that interested. Something’s already caught my eye.” 

The corner of Ten’s mouth turns up in a smirk. He runs one finger down Yukhei’s hand, but that’s all he gives up. “Oh? Give me a hint.” 

“Do you want a written invitation?” Yukhei isn’t very good at seduction, but fortunately for him, Ten doesn’t need to be. 

“No,” Ten decides. “I don’t. Take me to bed, Yukhei.” 

(Later, when night has turned to morning, Ten rolls over to face Yukhei in bed. 

“Are you planning on staying in Europe long?” he asks. 

“Yeah, I think so,” Yukhei responds. He nips lightly at Ten’s lips. “There’s this guy here, he’s really amazing, and I like him a lot. So I think I might stick around. If he wants me too.”

“You should have told me about him before we slept together. I hate being the other woman,” Ten laughs. Then, seriously, he says, “Come back to Cologne with me.” 

“Ok,” Yukhei says, with a smile that reaches to the corner of his eyes. “I will.”) 

-

**Day 20**

“Sicheng! _ Sicheng! _ Open up, fuck, please open the door.” Ten bangs repeatedly on the periwinkle blue apartment door. A hundred years ago, an enchanter like Sicheng would live miles outside a major city and wouldn’t even consider partnering with a Hunter. But fortunately for Ten, Sicheng lives in an average, third floor apartment in the Wenzhou metro area. 

It’s 4am. Ten is soaked to the bone and feeling more desperate than he ever has before. He feels like a child again, waking up in the middle of the night to inky black darkness with the sick feeling of something being terribly, terribly wrong. This time, though, Ten knows exactly what he’s dealing with. He just doesn’t know _ how to. _

Sicheng opens the door wearing a light silk robe and nothing else, expression set to his best annoyed glower. That look falls away, however, the moment he sees the panic alight in Ten’s eyes and the desperate way his chest rises and falls. 

Ten points. To the left of Sicheng’s door, slumped against the wall on the floor is a lump of dark clothes and blood. Somewhere in there is a person, or what’s left of one. 

“Help me lift him.” Together, they carry Yukhei inside the apartment. Ten thanks Buddha, God, and a couple more deities he can name off the top of his head that the researcher is unconscious. It was a long two weeks just getting him across China. “What happened?” 

“I—I don’t know,” Ten says. It’s deceitful, but Ten uses his frazzled state to deflect from the question. In the past twenty days, Ten hasn’t had time to think of an explanation for this mess. He has no way of explaining their fight in Crete, about how two days later Ten’s resolve had broken and he’d followed Yukhei to China. About how he’d tracked the younger man all the way to an abandoned village on the edge of the desert, but by then he was already too late. How Yukhei had turned on him in a moment and snapped at him with too-sharp teeth. 

How Ten had fought him off. 

How Ten had the chance to kill him, but couldn’t.

“There was a demon— a Yaoguai. What can you do? A cleansing. An—an exorcism?” 

“He’s not possessed,” Sicheng states. By now, Ten knows that, but he was still holding onto a sliver of hope that somehow, this problem would be fixable. “He’s—”

“Transformed.” 

Sicheng nods gravely. 

All the adrenaline that Ten has been running on since the moment he made it to Xinjiang crumbles to dust. With Yukhei slumped on the couch, Ten just falls to his knees beside him, a sob tearing its way from his throat when he hits the floor. Trying to stop the tears is pointless. 

Ten has seen a lot in 28 years. When was the last time he cried? When Taemin died? No, all he remembers then is numbness. When he and Kun were seventeen and he’d thought for eleven paralyzing minutes that Kun got eaten by a Wendigo? No, it wasn’t then, either. He’d been too focused on his own survival to break down. 

It must have been back then, in Thailand, when everything began. 

Losing Yukhei feels the same as losing his family. 

“Maybe he’s not lost,” Sicheng says, which means that either he’s developed mind-reading abilities, or Ten trail of thought has been happening out loud. He looks up at Sicheng with tear-clouded vision. While Ten was having his breakdown, Sicheng slipped away and changed into loose cotton pants, and carries a strange-smelling basket filled with various jars. “If he’s not totally feral by now, there might be something we can do.” 

They prep. They even go through Yukhei’s journals until Sicheng is sure about what he’s dealing with. He draws blood from Ten, and even pulls out some of the pangolin scales from years and years ago. 

From Tibet, where Yukhei first mentioned his interest in Xinjiang. Ten should have known he wouldn’t let the idea die, because just like him, Yukhei could be so _ stubborn. _

_ I should have gone with him. I could have prevented this. _

Having a task focuses Ten, prevents him from falling into the torrent of his own thoughts. He appreciates how the only speaking they do is Sicheng giving him short, direct to the point instructions. He doesn’t chastise Ten, and doesn’t even point out the obvious—that Ten should have killed Yukhei by now. 

He’s failed as a Hunter, that much is obvious. 

When everything is ready, Sicheng takes Ten’s hands in his own. It’s a surprise, considering the lengths Ten has seen Sicheng go through to avoid touching other people. It’s the closest they’ve ever been, their faces less than a foot apart. 

“Ten, if you want to save him, you’ll have to stay with him. Forever.” 

“Sicheng, I can’t lose him. I tried to... I tried to—and I couldn’t. Whatever it entails, I want to do it.” 

Sicheng nods. “I’m going to bind your together. I can’t guarantee how stable it will be, but you’ll need to be with him all the time. He’ll be restrained, but if anything happens to you...” 

“I understand.” 

“One more thing. This won’t keep you safe from him.” 

It’s a death sentence. Ten knows one when he sees it. But Ten has also been living his life on borrowed time, ever since he was ten years old and Taemin picked him out of the darkness when he had no right being alive. Being a Hunter is a death sentence, too. Ten’s spent nearly his entire life training to die. He maybe even _ deserves _ to die. 

But Yukhei doesn’t. Yukhei never deserved any bad things to happen to him. He was—is—filled with life and love. He’s a bright light that doesn’t deserve to be snuffed out so soon. 

It’s not like Ten wanted to become a Hunter. He didn’t do it because he loves humanity and wants to protect it—he became a Hunter because without it and the Family, he’s nothing. He has nothing else. Except, then Yukhei sat across from him at a cafe in Thailand, and then he had him as well.

Yukhei has never been religious, but he does believe that everything happens for a reason, that the people he meets in life serve some kind of predetermined purpose in helping him get exactly where he needs to be. Whoever’s writing the script, Ten wants to tell them go to fuck themselves, but maybe Ten’s purpose can be more than just to love Yukhei. He can save him, too. 

“Do it,” he says. 

Together, they build the chain. 

-

**Day -6750**

Fear. Fear so intense it’s beyond knowing, beyond the senses. A fear so primal it grips every nerve in the body, every synapse in the mind, all pointing to a terror more awful than even death. 

Though, death is coming as well. 

This is the last day of Chittaphon’s life. After this, the person in his body will be someone else, that’s the extent of the change. Some pain is unforgettable. Some pain shapes us forever. 

It’s the fear that wakes him. It creeps, insidious, into the warm cradle of his blankets until his body is covered head to toe in goosebumps. He’s ten years old with an overactive imagination, and when he opens his eyes he fears seeing something moving in the shadows. A few nights ago he swore to his momma that there _ was _ something, and made her stay with him until he fell asleep. But tonight, there’s nothing. 

Still, though, the fear persists. 

Chittaphon slides out of bed. His hand trembles when he reaches for the doorknob, but he can’t stop from turning it. 

There’s nothing waiting for him on the other side of the door. The darkness of the hall is still and quiet, but from the faint glow of light coming from the living room, like the TV has been left on with the sound off. 

That night, Chittaphon had gone to bed early. He’s been sick for a week, and his mom has prescribed him a tonic of honey and rest. Usually, his parents and sisters stays up watching variety shows together. 

He wants to call out for them, but his words stick in this throat. 

It’s not a clear path from his bedroom to the living room, the hallway turning at a sharp angle at the end. His scared to go there, but it’s also the only place to go. 

Tip toe. Tip toe. 

On his way, in front of his baby brother’s room, the floor is wet and slick. It makes a small _ squelch _ under foot and makes Chittaphon bristle. The light in the hallway is too dark to identify it. 

Halfway to the living room, he becomes aware of a low, deep hum, unlike any human sound he’s ever known. He wants to turn around and go back to his room, back to the warm cradles of his bed where he can wait out his nightmare until morning. Everything will be alright in the morning, in the light. But the fear has taken control of his body, now, and his mind is no longer what drives him forward. 

What does he find there, waiting for him? What terror has crept out from the shadows and shown its ugly face? 

The TV plays a drama, one of hundreds that comes and goes like a dream. On the small screen, lives play out in pantomime. 

Everything is normal, but everything is also terribly, terribly wrong. 

Spread around the TV in their usual places are Chittaphon’s dad and two older sisters. But their heads—_ where are their heads? _

He tries not to see. He tries not to see the gore and brain matter splattered across the walls and furniture, eyeballs, hair, and skull fragments making up the new decor. He tries not to notice the drip of piss down his leg and drip onto the floor. 

He doesn’t understand, he doesn’t understand. After this, his eyes will be open to all the things he never knew about the world. 

That terrible, droning moan gets louder. Chittaphon stands, immobile, as his momma comes into view. Her eyes are stretched open and each step she takes is jerky, like a marionette controlled by inexperienced, rough hands. She stretches out her hands to him—in an embrace, or a plea to run? 

Behind her floats a head. 

A head in the most generous sense of the word. It is head shaped, certainly, and has features Chittaphon can recognize as human, but their... deformed. Grotesque. The mouth is too wide, like a splitting gash across the bottom half. Its eyes are blank and clouded, but Chittaphon still feels seen by it. 

_ Run. Run! Please, run! _

“Momma?” He whispers. 

His momma opens here mouth, but not words come out. All that comes is a high wine, like a terrible ringing of thousands of bells all at once. His momma begins to vibrate, her entire body, in a way no human is capable of. 

She doesn’t cry out. She just stands there, shaking, and somehow that’s worse. 

_ Close your eyes, child, before it’s too late. _

Momma’s head _ pops _. 

Outside of himself, Chittaphon feels himself hit the back wall, but what happens next will be forever be shrouded in the fog of memory and trauma. One moment he’s inside, and then at the next he’s outside of his apartment on a bench, two hands gently cupping his face. 

He looks into the eyes belonging to those hands. They’re human eyes, and the relief feels like being dumped in a warm bath. His fingers has feeling again, and it hits like a great revelation that he can actually move them. 

“What’s your name? How old are you? Can you hear me?” The man asks, in English that Chittaphon can just barely understand. 

“Ten,” is what Chittaphon manages to say. It’s the only word he’ll mutter for a long time. 

“Ok,” the man says with such terrible softness. “My name is Taemin. I’m here to help you.” 

The boy cries. 

It seems impossible that anyone can help anyone in this world. 

-

**Day 500**

Sometimes, horrific things happen to innocent people without explanation. 

All that happens is a piece of chance—you take a different bus home, and the man across from you has a strange way of speaking; at an antique store, a beautiful yet macabre jewelry box catches your eye; or, two strangers pass through your small, woodsy village and are looking for a place to stay. 

Some people believe that everything happens for a reason, and their lives operate around a deterministic future where, one day, everything will work out for the better. 

Ten believes that’s bullshit. There’s no justice embedded in this world, only what we make for ourselves. Even then, life is just a lot of dumb luck. 

Alberta is beautiful—not even in the desert did Ten ever think the sky could be so vast and endless. He’s longed to feel cold again after so long in the heat of South America. They travel north from Calgary, up Route 2 that goes through every tiny town serving as pitstops for weary travellers. 

Weary, they are. 

They stop in a town that has no name, or at least, not one that Ten remembers. Dates and names take different roles in his mind now. He’s closer to 30 than to 29, the same age as Taemin was when he arrived in Thailand. 

This nameless town has no hotels, either, so they go house to house looking for a place to rest their heads. They find a quaint family on a cattle ranch willing to give up their loft for the night. Yukhei’s chain is covered by a scarf, and while the family may think they’re on the strange side, they give them nothing to be worried about, either. 

Although, one or two of their cattle may go missing before they quit this place. 

(Don’t think that Ten didn’t see Yukhei’s mouth water at the sight of them.) 

Ten runs out to the gas station, a fifteen minute round-trip. Only half of the pumps are operating, and inside, Ten has to sort through rows of expired milk and bacon to find something edible. When he returns, he knows something is off immediately. Yukhei had been wracked with tremors when Ten left, so he’d thought it best to just leave him in the loft. But now, he’s not in the loft at all. 

Ten looks across the short distance between the barn and the house. It seems like a chasm, but it’s the only place to go. 

He knows they’re dead before he even goes inside. It’s like living the same moment twice, except this time, he stands on the other side, where Taemin stood before kicking the door of his apartment in Thailand of its hinges. 

He wants to cry. He wants to run. He wants, desperately, to turn back the clock. He wants to make a different decision. Please, he wants a do-over, a second try, anything. 

This time, fear doesn’t own Ten, but he’s still powerless but to open the door. 

-

**Day 0**

When Yukhei was young, he was always too curious for his own good. He liked getting into trouble, whether it was through his class clown antics in school, or by digging through the drawers at his Grandma’s workshop. 

Dad studied folklore. Grandma studied magic. 

Yukhei was curious about people, and loved talking to them, but what he was really curious about were the drawings in his parent’s books, the things in stories that Yukhei knew weren’t _ really _ stories, after all. So that’s how his research started. His family was proud—he was carrying on the Wong legacy. 

It’s funny to think of where you’ve come from and where you’ve ended up. 

He doesn’t know what drove him to Xinjiang. The fight with Ten is just the excuse he uses to justify the trip, but in reality, something has been calling him there for a long time. There’s a curiosity he needs to itch. 

In this little village, the desert is invading where people once existed, but no longer. Thousands of years ago, people crossed this terrain to trade with others. Months and years all just to connect with others. 

And whatever it is he finds here, he’ll show Ten he can handle himself. After, Yukhei will go home, and his home these days isn’t Hong Kong, but a person with a number for a name. After, everything will go back to normal. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments mean the world to me, so leave one if you like! This was a fill for Weishen Fest and... spiraled out of control pretty quickly. But the fandom needs more genre pieces, and I am happy to oblige.
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/themunchking1) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/themunchking)


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